


The Devil's Island

by BlueRaven666



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 05:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18543088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRaven666/pseuds/BlueRaven666
Summary: After Akari is swept overboard from Mazelinka's ship in a raging storm, they wash up on an uncharted island. They soon discover they're not alone when Akari finds a marooned, but thriving Lucio, seemingly changed from his cruel, selfish ways. Can the two of them survive on the island together, or will the island kill them before help can arrive? (OC X Lucio)





	1. The Storm

**Chapter 1: The Storm**

            I stare out at the distant horizon, my chin resting in an upturned palm as I take in the unfathomable lengths of ocean surrounding us. I’ve officially lost count of how many times we’ve set sail on these waters, how many far-off lands we’ve travelled to, but my reaction is still the same: I’m completely overwhelmed, and incredibly irritated. How long would it be until we reached our next destination? Days? Weeks?

            Ever since the fighting started, I’ve wanted nothing more than to go home.

            I can’t exactly recall how it happened, now, but I know Julian’s immature and troublesome nature started getting old somewhere around our fifth or sixth trip out at sea. First it was just a little bit of scolding, not only from me, but from Portia, Mazelinka, and even Nazali. Then it turned into arguing, which turned into yelling, and eventually screaming. I’ve threatened to throw him overboard more than a couple of times, but Julian was always quick to call me out on my bluffs. I’d never actually do it, and he knows it.

            Now we’re not even talking to each other. The tension is so thick between all of us, it’s almost unbearable, and I find myself longing to be back at the shop in Vesuvia with Asra and Faust. Some time away from each other would do all of us some good, but we’re a good week away from Vesuvia’s shores, at best, and that’s _if_ the wind is in our favor.

            A sudden yelp and the sound of a rope going taut in the rigging above pulls me from my thoughts, and I sigh irritably as I look over my shoulder and up towards the sails. Julian is dangling upside down by one of the ropes, which he has somehow miraculously wrapped around one of his ankles. His flaming curls are a matted mess from wind and sweat, and a blush burns from the bottom of his throat to the tips of his ears as his eyes meet mine. This is the eighth time this week.

            After a long moment, he lets out a defeated sigh. I practically see him swallow the pride he’s been wallowing in.

            “Hey, Akari!” he calls out, shooting me a grin, “Give me a hand? Please?”

            My eyes narrow as I cross my arms and continue to stare daggers into him.

            “C’mon…” he whines, “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

            I blink. Seeing him try to reason with me like this is amusing, to say the very least, but my glare doesn’t waver. We’ve managed to forget about fights this way before, but there’s no way it’s gonna work this time. After all…

            … _He’s_ the reason Asra’s tarot cards are gone; thrown into the sea in a fit of anger and frustration some two hours ago.

            “Do you want me to apologize, is that it?” Julian growls before sneering, “Or perhaps you’d rather I jump overboard and go search for them?”

            “You should have thought about doing that _two hours_ ago!” I roar, “Asra’s going to be pissed!”

            Julian lets out a groan. His face is now red from all the blood rushing to it, and I can tell he’s starting to get disoriented.

            “I’ll make him a new one, or something!”

            “I don’t think you understand how tarot cards work,” I say, my irritation building, “Those were _Asra’s_ tarot cards! He’s _bound_ to that deck! You can’t just _replace_ them! Not with your artistic skills, anyhow…”

            I can tell my comment stuck a nerve as a dangerous glare snaps onto his features before his dizziness wipes it clean from his face.

            “Akari… please,” he whimpers, “I’ll think of something, just please get me down from here. It hurts!”

            I continue to stare at him with arms crossed for a few seconds longer before concern claws its way past my anger and irritation, and I begin climbing the rigging. I’m vaguely aware of the wind picking up, blowing strands of my ebony hair into my face.

            “I think a storm’s coming,” Julian comments, trying to focus his gaze on the horizon.

            “Don’t say that…” I groan, shivering slightly at the memory of the last storm we weathered through on this ship.

            It happened before the two of us started fighting. We were just leaving from Prakra when it hit us out of nowhere. Julian and I were almost swept overboard, and it took all of Portia’s, Mazelinka’s, and Nazali’s strength to keep us from disappearing over the railing and into the darkness of the ocean below. I was shaken for a couple of days afterward. Asra refused to let me go sailing with him again… until he realized that at the time there was no stopping me from going anywhere with Julian, and that I would sneak out of the shop if I had to.

            I couldn’t help but think… If that happened again… If Julian or I were to be swept overboard in a storm now… Would I care? Would Julian care? Would I be as shaken as I was after the last storm? Would Julian dive in after me, likely condemning us both to death? Or would he just glare, just as he started doing whenever he saw me around the ship after a vicious fight?

            A particularly strong gust of wind disturbs my climb, nearly making me lose my grip. Julian just might be right about that storm. I hold on for dear life.

            “Be careful!” he calls to me, his voice a mixture of jest and concern.

            When there’s a break in the wind, I make a mad dash up the rigging and quickly try to free Julian’s ankle. The way he’s dangling… _hanging_ from that rope, he looks just like the Hanged Man from Asra’s tarot deck. I can’t help but giggle.

            “Go ahead,” Julian says, “Laugh… I miss your smile, anyways.”

            His words send a longing ache through my chest. I miss his smile, too; the goofy one that he’d crack during his antics, the one that would spread across his features during our melodramatic roleplays just before we’d settle down for the night…

            The one that’d play on his lips whenever we kissed.

            How I longed for this to go back to the way they were before, but I think this time… This time it’s personal. The deck he threw overboard didn’t just mean a lot to Asra, they meant a lot to me, too. That deck was the first thing related to magic he taught me when I first woke up without my memories. Even when I couldn’t remember how to use them, or couldn’t communicate well with anyone, it brought me comfort and guidance. It gave me hope, and I was bonded to it just as Asra was.

            And now it was gone, miles deep at the bottom of the ocean. How could I forgive Julian for something like that? Could I forgive him?

            After a brief struggle, the rope finally unraveled from around Julian’s ankle, sending him tumbling to the deck below.

            “Thank you…” I heard him call back up to me.

            As I began to climb back down myself, Portia poked her head up from below deck, shooting an unamused scowl at her brother’s pitiful form lying just a few feet from her.

            “You fell off the rigging again, didn’t you…”

            “Akari did it!” Julian shouted with a jest.

            “Ooohh! Don’t start again with that!” Mazelinka scolds us from her position at the ship’s helm, “You guys have been fighting all week. I’d like all of us to stay in one piece until we get back to Vesuvia. You think you guys can handle that much?”

            Julian and I exchange a slight look of shame. I think I preferred her walking in on us on our nightly activities below deck to this.

            “Yes, ma’am…” we both reply.

            I let out a shiver as the wind picks up again. Clouds begin to gather in the blue skies above, and I feel the first few droplets of rain as the ocean grows restless.

            “Look lively, everyone!” Mazelinka calls out, “Looks like it’s gonna be another big one!”

            After what only feels like a couple of minutes and a few claps of thunder, the rain is coming down in buckets. Waves causes the ship to alternate between feeling miles high in the sky, and dipping so low I swear I can see the ocean floor before we’re tossed back up again. Our feet slip horribly as Julian, Portia, Nazali, and I all wrestle with the sails. We’re soaked to the bone, all doing our fair share of slipping, falling, and struggling to stand back up. I can almost sense Julian’s helplessness every time I lose my footing, forcing himself to cling tighter to the ropes and not being able to help me up like wants to.

            “Don’t worry, Akari,” he says, calling to me over the roar of the waves, “We’ll be below deck soon enough. We just gotta get these sails up!”

            “Who’s worried?” I call back, “You’re worried!”

            “Of course I am! Last time-” a flash of lightning cuts him off, and he grimaces as sea water is sprayed into his face, “Last time I almost lost you, and—“

            “Julian, now really isn’t the time for…”

            My words trail off as I feel the ship tilt to one side. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as a shadow looms over us. When we all look, we’re met with a towering wall of water.

            None of us are able to get a word in as the massive wave comes crashing down and sweeps across the deck. Julian and I are swept to the other side of the ship in a rush of water and are thrown against the railing. Over the thunder and waves, I hear Portia and Nazali calling to us.

            Without thinking about it, I stand up and try to recover, only to be met with another unforgiving wave that pulls my feet out from under me. I feel an ice-cold hand grip firmly onto mine, and Julian’s terrified, frustrated shrieks rising over the noise of the storm. When I look, I realize I’m dangling over the edge of the railing, pitch-black waters threatening to swallow me up, and Julian clinging to the railing and my hand for dear life.

Portia and Nazali rush to his aid, and even Mazelinka struggles to make her way over to them to help, but no element is in their favor, and I take in Julian’s tormented expression as I feel myself slipping from his grasp. I do what I can to help, thinking of every spell I can that can tighten our grasp, propel me up, _anything_! But it’s no use as my hand continues to inch its way out of his.

Another wave rips across the surface of the ship, forcefully tearing my hand way from Julian’s and throwing me into the raging sea. I can hear Julian let out a desperate, anguished shriek even while I’m submerged. The next time my face break the surface, I see Julian trying to dive in after me, only to be held back by Portia, Nazali, and Mazelinka. His tears overwhelm the rain beating down on his face. Portia’s in no better shape. Nazali bares a hopeless expression, and even from a distance I can tell Mazelinka is looking for something to throw that can haul me back aboard.

The wind and the waves rapidly carry the boat further and further away from me, and I feel myself rapidly growing tired as I try to fight against the storm in a pointless effort to swim back towards the ship.

The last thing I hear before I’m pulled under the waves again and slip into darkness is Julian’s mournful wails carrying my name across the barren sea.


	2. Chapter 2: The Storm

**Chapter 2: The Island**

 

The sound of water splashing against a shoreline pulls me from the darkness. A bright sun sits high in the sky; it's a warm day. The sun is slightly obscured by massive palm fronts, providing me with shade from its scorching rays. My tanned skin is peppered with sand and sea salt, and my clothes cling uncomfortably to every corner of my body, still wet and heavy. As I stir, sand sifts between my fingers and toes, warm and strangely soft. The groan that rises into my throat as I try to move turns into a cough as it burns from the amount of sea water I must have inhaled.

As I turn my head, I make out a small shape next to me, a pile of fruit. I make out some bananas, mangos, pineapple, and an assortment of berries. I don't even think about it as I grab a bright red berry and pop it into my mouth. It bursts along my tongue, its sweet and sour flavor compelling me to take another, and another, until the briny taste of the sea is replaced with that of the berries.

As I sit up fully, that's when it hit me. Where am I? How did I get here? Where did the fruit come from? Am I dead?

Looking around a little more closely I see a prominent trail leading from the edge of the water to where I lay. I wasn't just washed up here. Something dragged me here, far away from the fingers of the creeping tide. Around me are indentations in the sand, the unmistakable trail of human footprints. From the looks of it, they lead from the dense, tropical forest, down to the water's edge, back up along the trail made by my body as it was dragged up to this palm tree, then back and forth from the forest to the pile of fruit.

Wherever I was, I wasn't alone here.

After a few disorienting attempts, I manage to stand up and look around. Out in the open sea, there's not a boat to be seen for miles in any direction. It'd seem I'm a far way from Vesuvia, Prakra, or any of the other lands I've visited with Julian. On land, it'd seem I'm the only person in the immediate area.

"Hello?" I call out, "Can anybody hear me?"

I'm only met with silence.

As I turn back to face the forest, a movement catches my eye. Something dives for the cover of some large bushes, a pale flash that seemed human in appearance.

Carefully, I approach the dense foliage, trying my best not to startle whoever or whatever ducked between them. Perhaps it was a local, frightened of a foreigner like me in their midst. Or perhaps they were just shy like Muriel. Regardless, if I was going to get off, or otherwise survive on this island, I was probably going to need some help from someone that was familiar with the place.

As I drew nearer, something caught my eye in the foliage. It looked like... hair; long, tangled, and the lightest shade of blond I'd ever seen. The closer I got, the more I could make out. Pale skin, tattered remains of clothes, a few scars varying in age. They were even missing an arm. This was definitely a person, and judging from their build, they were male.

I clear my throat, and the figure flinches.

"I-I'm sorry..." I said, "I don't mean to bother you, but could you tell me where I am?"

The figure was still for a moment before they glanced over their shoulder to look at me. Piercing silver eyes stare up at me like I'm a predator ready to pounce. I could have sworn there was something familiar about their gaze, but their face was obscured by their matted, golden mane. Eventually, they let out a sigh, and speak.

"I guess there's no avoiding it, huh?"

In a matter of milliseconds, my blood went cold. I  _knew_  that voice, but... no, it couldn't be. That guy was loooooong gone, far, far away, if not dead. But I was proven wrong as the figure pulled his hair up out his face; a face that I was all too familiar with.

"Count Lucio?!"

A half-hearted, dare I say  _painful_ , smile crossed his face, "Hello, Mari..."

I scowled, "It's  _Akari_ , and what the hell are you doing here?! You were banished from Vesuvia and all its associated cities!"

Lucio stood up; dusting the sand off what little remained of his clothes as he stepped out of the foliage.

"Sorry to break it to you, Arari, but you're a long way from any land that's even  _heard_  of Vesuvia."

I feel my heart sink. So my speculations were true.

"And anyway," Lucio continued as he plucked a berry from the bush, "I was here first, so my question for you is: what are  _you_ doing here? Where's your lover, Julian?"

A pang of sadness and guilt struck me as I recalled the last time I saw Julian, held back by everyone else on our ship as he tried to dive in after me. What were the odds that he and the rest of the crew survived? If I was swept away within mere minutes of the storm starting, who's to say they weren't all engulfed by the sea, as well. Chances are they didn't get as lucky as I had by washing up on an island. In all likelihood, the storm tore that ship apart.

"There was a storm," was all I could say, "a wave knocked me off-board."

Lucio nodded, "I'm really sorry to hear that."

Sorry? Did he really just say sorry?! Since  _when_  did this guy feel sorry for  _anyone_?!

"I'm sorry," I state with a flabbergasted chuckle, "but where is  _this_  coming from? Last time we met you couldn't be sorry to save your life.  _Literally_!"

Lucio's eyes narrow, "You don't think people can change?"

I scoff, "Not  _you_!"

I only manage to catch a glimpse of the personally offended look on Lucio's face before storming away back to the palm tree I woke up under.

Really? Lucio, change? The count that caused the Red Plague, the selfish prick that tried to keep the cure for himself, the spirit that haunted all of Vesuvia, the man that made a deal with The Devil of the Arcana, the one that stole my body so he could come back?

_That_ Lucio? Change?! Never.

Knowing that, I try to forget all about Lucio and focus on more pressing matters; how to get back to Vesuvia. How to get back on a ship, at the very least. But more than anything, I want to find a way to contact Asra, Portia, or even Julian; let somebody know that I'm still alive.

And then it occurred to me...

I thought back to the first night spent at the palace, unable to sleep, walking out into the gardens, and communicating with Asra. Glancing down at my chest, I found the emerald jewel that Nadia had given to me still hanging there, still pulsing with Asra's magic. It was a miracle that I didn't lose it during the storm. If using it to communicate with Asra had worked in the fountain, maybe it would work in the shallows.

Strolling towards the shoreline, I perch myself on top of one of the various rocks jutting up from the water. I took the emerald from around my neck and carefully drop it, causing it to rest no more than a foot below the surface. Almost immediately the water began to ripple, and a pleasantly familiar voice called out to me before his face could completely come into view.

"Akari!"

I couldn't help but let out a huge sigh of relief as our eyes met, the deep purple in them bringing me more comfort than I'd ever felt in these past few days, "Asra."

Asra takes a moment to look me over, peering closer like he's trying to comprehend what I look like. I can already tell he's on another one of his journeys, the land around him foreign and unfamiliar to me.

"Where are you, exactly?" he asks, "That doesn't look like anyplace I've ever visited, and you look like you got into some kind of tussle with a pirate."

A laugh escapes me. I didn't doubt that, but my chest goes tight as I look at him. Asra probably thinks that I'm still with Julian and everyone else, and that this is just another far of land we’ve managed to come across.

"I'm on an island," I say, scratching some sand from the back of my scalp, "I'm not entirely sure where."

Asra's brow furrows with worry, "Where are the others?"

I explain everything the fighting, the storm, me getting swept overboard, and finally waking up on an uncharted island. By the end on my explanation, Asra looks completely overwhelmed with worry.

"Well, I'm glad you're all right," he says, running a hand through his fluffy white hair, "But... are you sure there aren't any locals who could help you? Maybe they could provide you with a way back."

I shake my head, "That's not even the worst part. I'm not the only person stranded on this island."

"Well, who else is there with you? If not Julian, Portia, or anyone else from your ship, then who?"

Annoyance and lingering hatred settles on my features, "Three guesses as to who it is."

Asra looks confused for a moment before his eyes widen, "No..."

"Yup."

"Lucio?!"

"Yup."

"But how?! When? Why?"

"I don't know. All I've been able to gather is that he's been on this island a lot longer than I have, and that he must have been the one to pull me out of the water."

Asra looks frantic, like I've been pulled back into the world between realms and Lucio is running amuck in my body again. After a brief minute he calms himself, taking a deep breath.

"You aren't hurt? Did he try to hurt you at all?"

I shake my head, "It's strange. I woke up well away from the water's edge, shaded by a palm tree with a big pile of fruit next to me. It's like he's  _trying_  to help me. The bastard still can't get my name right worth a damn, though."

The tension in Asra eases slightly, but he still looks like he's on his guard.

"Just... be careful, Akari," he says, "I'll do what I can to help you get back to Vesuvia; figure out if Julian and everyone else are still alive. In the meantime,  _don't_ let your guard down around that guy. In all likelihood, he's trying to win your favor to gain safe passage back, as well."

I nod, "Please, hurry. I don't want to be here with him any longer than I have to."

Asra cracks a smile, "I figured as much. I'll be as quick as I can. That's a promise.”

With that, Asra's image fades away into the shallows, leaving me alone once more.


	3. Chapter 3: The Catch

**Chapter 3: The Catch**

I spend an unknown span of time gazing out into the distant waters as I remained perched on the rock I had been on while talking to Asra, hoping to see something; the sails of a ship, a fishing boat,  _something_  that could free me from this island. No matter how hard I looked, though, no matter how far out into the horizon I looked, I saw nothing but sea and sky.

The more I stare, the more the reality of my present situation starts to weigh on me. I'm trapped on an island with last person anybody on this earth would probably want to be stuck with, and help is days away, if not longer. There was no helping it. I can't just sit here, hoping I'll eventually see someone coming to our rescue. At the very least, I have to find food, fresh water, and shelter, or I'll be dead before help  _can_  arrive.

I took a glance back at the palm tree I woke up under with the pile of fruit resting nearby. At least I know this place has an abundance of fruit, or Lucio might not have been so quick to offer me some.

The more I think about it, the more my reluctance and dread began to build. It's obvious that Lucio has been stranded on this island for a while, now, and yet he he's somehow managed to survive. He may be the last person I want to go to for help, but he's the only person here who knows where all the best food and water sources are, as well as know where I could find some shelter. The only thing left for me to do is find the bastard.

I walk back over to the foliage where I had left him, not all too surprised to find him gone from that spot. A path snaking its way into the dense forest catches my eye. It looks well-traveled; all grass and other vegetation gone from it and exposing the dark, rich soil hidden underneath. I'm not following it for long before the path opens up into a clearing. Tree branches, vines, and palm fronds form a sturdy-looking shelter, complete with a mound of moss, fronds, and various, unidentifiable animal hides piled high to make some sort of a bed. A fallen tree serves as a sort of bench next to a bonfire pit. My mind has a hard time believing that Lucio build all of this for himself, but, having been officially stripped of his title as Count, I doubt there's a single servant on this island to do this for him.

Shaking my head, I'm torn as to what I should do. Some part of me wants to continue searching the island for Lucio, another part of me was satisfied waiting here to see if he'd come back. If this was the camp he'd officially built for himself, then it was likely that he would return. And that bed  _did_  look a lot comfier than the sand I'd been resting on earlier.

The exhaustion from fighting the storm and my waterlogged state pulled at my eyes as I settled for waiting for Lucio to return. I slip under the furs in the shelter and settle down into the makeshift bed. It  _is_  comfier than where I had woken up under that palm tree, albeit a bit scratchier due to the fronds. It doesn't take long for my eyes to slip closed and fall into a dreamless sleep.

The sound of footsteps approaching the campsite stirs me from my sleep, but I don't dare open my eyes. If it's Lucio returning from god-knows-where, doing who-knows-what, I'm not sure how he'll take me sneaking in and taking over his bed. In a way, I sort of saw it as a test. If Lucio did indeed change like he claimed he had, exactly  _what_  did he change into? The type of man that would forcefully drag me out of his campsite and tell me to get lost? Would he just leave me be? Would he try something while I was vulnerable and unaware?

I listen as I hear the footsteps stop at the edge of the campsite. There's a few drawn out seconds of silence before it's broken by a sigh. The footsteps move to one side of the fire pit, and I hear something land on the ground before the footsteps begin making their way towards me. I remain as still as possible, trying not to make any sudden moves as I sense someone leaning over me. A moment later, I feel the furs covering me shift slightly before being pulled from the small of my back up to the nape of my neck. I hadn't realized how cold I actually was before I find myself engulfed in the warmth of the pelts. A gentle hand smooths them over my back before the footsteps turn back towards the bonfire pit.

I finally gain the courage to peek one eye open. Lucio sits down on the fallen tree beside the fire pit, a wide variety of fish and shellfish lying in a heap at his dirt-caked feet. Any exposed skin of his is scorched a painful red from being out in the sun. He looks utterly exhausted, but continues to work, piling wood up in the pit and trying to ignite it with some flint. To no avail, the flint sparks only for them to bounce across the wood and die out. Nothing catches. There isn't any kindling or dried vegetation to make it catch. For someone who was very good at setting fires, he sure seemed bad at making one himself.

The sight is so pitiful, I can hardly stand it as I sit up and rub the last traces of sleep from my eyes. The sun has started to set, casting varying shades of orange and pink across the sky.

Lucio only shoots me an acknowledging glance as he continues to try to get the wood to light... and continues to fail. I choose to watch him just a minute longer. If I ever make it off this island, I'll be able to tell everyone the story of the infamous Count Lucio, foraging for food and trying to make fire. I imagine Portia and Julian standing next to me, mocking his every failed attempt. Mazelinka and Nazali would have definitely given him hell, too, and my heart aches, wishing we could witness this together.

Eventually, I decide to put Lucio out of his misery, and hold my hand over the pile of wood. The next sparks from the flint jump to life with the flame that sprouts up from my magic. I see just the slightest hint of envy cross Lucio's features as I sit cross-legged across from him.

We stare at each other in silence for what feels like an hour. I take the time to take in his weary gaze, the tangled mess his platinum hair is in, the sunburn that is likely making even the slightest movement agony, the clothes that are barely hanging on to his form. Several years ago, Lucio wouldn't be caught dead looking like he did now.

Now? Now, he had no choice.

Eventually, Lucio breaks the silence with a sigh. He begins impaling fish along a pointed stick, placing them over the fire.

"Would you like some?" he asks.

An abrupt growl from my stomach answers him, and I blush. Three fish are set cooking over the fire, and many more are being placed on sticks. Among the pile of seafood are crabs, lobsters, clams, a few sea urchins, and even an eel. I watch as the flames just barely lick the scales of the fish that are cooking. I was starving, and while I was sure that Lucio was no cook, his catch did look appetizing.

I nod, watching him pull the fish away from the fire and reach for something just out of sight beside the log. He pulls up a hollowed-out coconut shell and sides all three fish into it before handing it to me.

"Sorry there isn't any silverware," he says flatly, "You'll just have to use your hands."

The smell wafting up from the makeshift bowl makes my mouth water, and I eagerly take a bite. The fish is hot, moist, and flaky; not too dry, and seasoned by the salt of the sea. I eat eagerly, stripping the bones of every last bit of flesh until nothing remains but a browned skeleton.

Halfway through the second fish, I glance up at Lucio... and nearly drop my bowl. He tears into the cooked fish like a rabid bear, never minding most of the bones and devouring it in large bites that crunch between his teeth. By the time he finishes a fish, nothing remains but the head and a few stray vertebrae.

"Eat what you can," he says with a passing glance, "Most of my trips are never this good. It could be a while before we get to eat like this again."

I look down at the meatless bones and grimace. I was never fond of eating even the thinnest bones from a fish. Then again, Lucio had a point. I can't afford to be wasteful. It was likely that this island had only so much fruit that was edible, and my fishing skills were probably no better than his.

I find my resolve as I take a large bite from the fish, crunching the bones between my teeth. My mind is racing, trying to comprehend how this is really Lucio. Apologetic? Generous? He hasn't even said a single narcissistic thing since we first made contact on this island. Then again, it might just be as Asra said; him trying to win my favor to gain safe passage off the island when help arrived. If this was some sort of ruse, he was bound to crack in no time. But I couldn't help but wonder... what if it wasn't? What if this island really  _did_  change him?

"Something on your mind, Amari?"

The question makes me cringe. Okay, so he's still messing up my name. He's still kind of an ass, but somehow I remember him being way, _way_ worse. The memory of it all makes me set my bowl down beside me as I lean forward, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Lucio?"


	4. Chapter 4: The Predator

**Chapter 4: The Predator**

 

The moon is high in the sky by the time we finish off the last of Lucio's catch. I am unbelievably full, having eaten four fish, two clams, and half of the eel. I spit any remaining fragments of bone lingering in my mouth into the dirt, and give a long stretch. Between the warmth of the fire and having a full stomach, I was ready to crawl back under the furs and go back to sleep.

But I need answers.

"You didn't answer my question."

Lucio lifts his gaze from the mound of shells and bones we left behind, "What?"

"What's your game, Lucio? A year ago, the idea of living like this would have probably made you sick. Now? What's your deal? What do you have to gain by helping me?"

Lucio's eyes slip closed as he takes a deep breath in. He looks like he's trying to contain a demon trapped within him that's ready to explode from his core. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee.

"You know, I've been asking myself the same thing all day," he admits, "It strange. When I saw you laying there when you washed up on shore, I honestly thought I was hallucinating. I haven't seen a single ship since I was first marooned here. My first thought was, 'Finally, someone has come! I'm saved!'. But then I saw the reality of the situation. There wasn't a boat or ship in sight. You were no less stranded than I was. The next thing I thought was, 'Well, if they're here, Asra or Julian can't be far behind. Might as well make sure they're all right.'"

"So... you just saved me... out of the goodness of your heart?"

"More or less. I had a hunch you weren't far off, anyway, and that our paths might cross again."

Confusion contorts my features as I absorb his words, "What made you think that?"

Lucio awkwardly reaches into the remains of a pocket in his trousers, and pulls out what looks like a scrap of paper. As he holds it up, the light of the fire catches its colors, and a wave of relief and excitement crashes over me as I realize it's one of Asra's tarot cards; the Fool.

"Washed up on shore just before the storm."

"Oh my God!" I jump up, rushing over to Lucio in what feels like a single stride. I snatch the card from between his fingers. The thick paper is warped from drifting in the ocean, but is otherwise still in one piece, "Did you find any others?"

"I didn't really look. I was perched on a rock, fishing, when it just suddenly appeared."

"I bet we'll find at least a few more if we go back and look."

"Tomorrow. Right now my main focus is getting these scraps as far away from us as possible."

I watch curiously as he scoops the bones and shells from our dinner and piles them into a single, empty coconut shell, "Why is that?"

Lucio's eyes are focused on the dense forest around us. He looks nervous, like he's expecting something to jump out at him.

"We aren't the only ones here," he says, "This island may seem small at a glance, but it's home to quite a few predators and scavengers, as well. I learned the hard way that it's better to be safe than sorry." Lucio gives one last glance around the perimeter of the campsite before making his way back towards the path leading to the beach, "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

My eyes don't leave him until his figure disappears out of sight and into the dark. Seeing him like that feels incredibly daunting; concerned, taking responsibility, trying to keep us safe. Maybe he was just doing it for himself, to keep  _himself_  safe, feeding me and giving me the tarot card to make  _himself_  seem like a good person, like someone who could be  _trusted_. It'd seem like the kind of thing Lucio would do. Still, I wondered how he could do it without showing the slightest hint of annoyance.

A rustle from the tree line behind me shakes me from my thoughts. My first thought is that Lucio might have lost sight of the trail and was wandering through the trees, but as I listened to it, it sounded less like a lost Lucio, and more like an animal stalking something through the brush; a  _large_  one, at that. The steps were careful, yet prominent, slowly inching their way closer to the edge of the trees.

I stood up, and wheeled around in time to see a pair of large, round, green eyes emerge from the foliage. The beast's orange fur seemed to glow in the light of the fire, sharp black stripes parting its pelt like twisted swords. A tiger.

My heart began to race as the massive feline stopped in its tracks and stared me down. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, dragging across its nose as it let out a guttural growl. This cat was hungry, and I reeked of cooked seafood. Slowly, I tried backing away from the beast, only to feel my fear spike as it matched its steps with mine. What should I do? Do I run? Do I hold my ground? Should I call out for Lucio? Was this the predator he was referring to?

I have no time to think as I find myself backed against a tree. I think about making a break for it just a moment too late as the tiger lurches towards me with a roar, ivory teeth and claws glistening as they aim for my head and shoulders.

Just as I think I'm about to be tiger food, something charges out of the forest and slams its body against it, almost throwing the massive feline into the fire. A mess of blond hair fills my vision as Lucio puts himself between me and the tiger, his only weapon being a spear.

The tiger's reaction is explosive. It jumps up, quickly regaining its footing, and snarls viciously at Lucio. It's almost as if I was never there as the cat directs all of its attention on its attacker. A massive paw strikes out, aimed at Lucio's knees, a blow that is quickly dodged as Lucio smacks the tiger across the face with the butt of his spear. An enraged roar fills the campsite, and before I can blink I watch in horror as the tiger whips back around, and pounces on top Lucio. My stomach drops when I hear a sickening snap.

Just when I begin to fear the worst, the tiger rears up with a yowl. Half of the spear has been driven into one of its shoulders. It falls back, and lands directly on top of the fire. In a panic, the tiger scrambles off of the pit, scattering smoldering embers in its wake, and dashes back into the woods.

I stand there, too stunned to move, as the campsite falls back into silence. It isn't until I hear a moan escape Lucio's crumpled form that I move, rushing to his side to assess the damage. He's halfway to his feet by the time I do so, just in time to support him as he staggers to the side.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

A chuckle escapes Lucio, "Never better... Just a scratch..."

My gut twist as I look at Lucio's arm. A massive gash runs down from his shoulder to his elbow, and there are prominent puncture wounds from the tiger's teeth. The injuries look severe.

"Just a scratch, huh?" I say with a scowl, "You sound just like Julian."

I try think of what to do next. The injury itself isn't fatal, but it'll become a problem for Lucio if it gets infected. I could heal it, but then again... I couldn't help but ask myself if he deserved such a kindness. After all the trouble he put everyone through; me, Nadia, Asra, Julian,  _all_  of Vesuvia, did he deserve to be healed?

The fading echo of the tiger's roars finalize my decision. Lucio  _did_  save my life. If I hadn't been caught off my guard, I could have thrown up a protective shield, or blasted the cat off of Lucio using my magic, and be the hero. The least I can do is show him the same kindness.

"Take off your shirt."

Lucio shoots me a dazed look, "What?"

"That wound on your shoulder will get infected without treatment," I explain, "I can heal it... that is, unless you  _want_ to die a slow, miserable death."

"No, no, by all means..."

We sit back down on the fallen tree beside the campfire pit, carefully stepping around any scattered embers caused by the tiger's retreat. Lucio moves to undo the buttons of his shirt, only to be stopped by the pain of his own injury. Our eyes meet for a split second before he looks away, a slight blush pushing through his sunburnt face.

"Um... if you could, A-Akari..."

I smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, "Well... since you actually got my name  _right_ , for once..."

One by one, I begin undoing the buttons, and for once I'm able to see what I wasn't able to see under all those gaudy clothes he wore at his grand return to the palace during the Masquerade; broad shoulders, a smooth chest, abs that give his stomach a slight ripple. Who knew that was what was under all those tacky silks and furs?

As gently as I can, I remove his injured arm from its tattered sleeve. It looks worse unobscured by the fabric as it becomes more and more difficult to tell what's a wound and what is just blood.

"I don't suppose you have a bottle of fresh water around here, do you?" I ask.

Lucio nods, gesturing to a hollowed out log at the edge of the campsite. Even from where we sit, I can see the light of the fire reflecting off of a glass surface. When I go over to inspect, I find an assortment of glass bottles, all filled with rain water. I grab the largest one out of the collection, an old wine bottle, and carry it back to Lucio.

"Where do you find this stuff?" I ask as I pull out the stopper.

"Stuff like that washes up on shore all the time," Lucio explains, "I leave the bottles out to collect water whenever it rains or storms, since drinking seas water is, well, not a very good idea."

Lucio lets out a hiss as I begin pouring the cool water over the wound, wiping away the blood as I go. It's painfully deep, but the bite marks don't look nearly as bad as I had originally thought, so I focus my attention on the gash on his shoulder.

"This might be a little uncomfortable," I say as I press my hands against the wound, "Pins and needles..."

Lucio winces as the wound begins to close up, skin pulling together until it's narrow and scabbed over.

"Tell me this doesn't happen every time you cook a meal."

Lucio manages a chuckle, "Usually, no. Then again, I don't usually eat as much as we did tonight. Most of the time I have to settle for fruit or roots, but if there’s fish involved, or prey is scarce, Nero usually comes poking around."

"Nero? The tiger has a name?"

"Well, yeah. I've known him since he was a cub. His mother's den wasn't too far off from my camp on the North end of the island. The mother, sweetest thing; a gentle giant. Her cubs... well..." Lucio gestures to his injuries, "Seeing them as cubs doesn't change the fact that they're wild animals."

Lucio stands up, testing the mobility of his arm. He winces a bit at what's left of the injury, but it's nowhere near as bad as what it was.

I move to get up when my vision blurs and my head swims. Healing that wound must have taken a lot out of me, and I'm unable to stop myself as I slump forward and the world goes black.


	5. Chapter 5: The Fool

A stray ray of light skittering over my eyes rouses me from my sleep. A steady breeze rustles the canopies of the trees. The cool air from last night still lingers in the air, but gradually warms up with the onset of morning. In the distance, I can hear waves rolling against the shore. I'm lying atop the makeshift bed inside of Lucio's shelter, but Lucio himself is nowhere to be seen.

As I sit up, I take a moment to observe the state of the campsite. A pile of ashes and charred wood is all that remains of the fire. Agitated patches of dirt mark Lucio's tussle with Nero, and the embers that had gone flying when the tiger retreated are nothing more than small piles of grey and white ash. The wine bottle full of water is still sitting on top of the fallen tree where I healed Lucio's injuries, covered in a sparkling layer of dew.

Recalling the events of last night, I have a pretty good idea of how life on this island works. Lucio has had to find his own food, and build his own shelter. Fresh water can be collected when it rains. There are tigers on this island that will come for the food if they smell it cooking, and who knows what other predators are lurking around that I don't know about? At least with this knowledge, however, I don't have to worry about needing to mooch off of Lucio. It's probably hard enough for him to take care of himself out here. There's no use making things harder by having him look after me, too.

Frankly, despite all that's happened within this past day, the thought makes me sick. Despite the explanation he gave me over dinner last night, I don't know why he's helping me. It can't really be because of Asra or Julian, could it? What would that matter to him? There  _had_  to be something else, something that he's refusing to let on. If only I had the deck...

As the thought hits me, something pulls at my mind from across the clearing. I follow it to the fallen tree beside the fire pit. The Fool's card rests atop the bark, pinned down by the wine bottle to keep the wind from blowing it away. The way I'm looking at it, the card is in its upright position; its message ringing in my head, as if it's giving me a piece of its mind to teach me a lesson.

_He has turned over a new leaf. Put your faith in him. He will not lead you astray._

I know better than to argue with the cards, whether it's a one-card reading, or a full spread, but my concern is difficult to choke down. Asking me to trust Lucio would be like asking a lamb to trust a rabid wolf. But... I  _know_ I can trust Asra's tarot cards, even The Fool.

I let out a sigh, tucking the card into my sleeve as I set out on the trail heading back towards the beach. The sea glitters as the sun dances across its surface. Ahead of me, a figure catches my eye, standing several feet out in the water between three towering rocks. The sun catches his long blond hair, giving it a luminous shine as a single hand combs through it. A broad back faces me, already scorched pink by the merciless rays of the sun. It's only then that I notice the scraps of clothing lying in a heap in the sand, and I realize that it's only Lucio... taking a bath. A blush spreads across my face as I see him turn to face me, and our eyes lock.

He's still for a moment before I see him gesturing for me to come join him. A bath did sound heavenly as I consider the sand and dirt caked onto my body, and the nearly unbearable chafing caused by my clothes as the sea water has turned the soft, flowing garments into burlap and sandpaper. Then again, would bathing  _in the sea_  really resolve anything? Wouldn't it only make matters worse? Not only that; I wasn't exactly comfortable bathing with  _Lucio_.

A gust of wind passes over my form, and I'm vaguely aware of the sand that's rolling off of my limbs. Dirt smudges various areas of my skin, and my hands still felt greasy from last night's dinner.

There was no law that said I had to bathe  _next to_  Lucio...

Staring Lucio down, I make a gesture for him to turn around. With a nod, he turns back towards the open water, wading further out until the water is up to his chest. I strip myself of my clothes, careful not to dislodge The Fool from its place in my sleeve. I leave the clothes in a pile just out of reach from the ocean's creeping fingers, and make my way into the water.

The sun has already warmed up the shallows, bringing my mind back to the warmth of the Countess's pool back in Vesuvia. Rolling waves bring cooler water from deeper areas, sending a slight shiver through me before being replaced by the warmth of the sun. I wade out until the water reaches my waist, feeling satisfied as I feel the sand fall from my limbs and sink below the water.

As I sink into the shallows, I can't help but think about Julian, the smell of warm seawater bringing me back to all the times we'd bathe together. A wave of emotions hits me at once; guilt, sadness, loneliness, and the hope that, despite the storm, he was on his way back to Vesuvia now, ready to restock supplies for the ship before coming back to search for me...

And then?

I think about our last fight, the various things we said to each other after Julian threw Asra's tarot cards into the sea; hurtful things I don't think either of us could forgive. And then the fight before that, and the countless others before that. I was going to take some time for myself once we got back to Vesuvia. Relax, immerse myself in the familiarity and comforts of home... and re-evaluate my relationship with Julian. Asra had once warned me that Julian wasn't the best person, not even a really good one. He tried to warn me, likely knowing something like this would happen.

Was I paying the price for not listening, now? Could I have avoided all of this if I had fallen for somebody better? If so, who? Asra? Nadia? Portia? Muriel? The baker?

Sighing, I regain my footing in the shallows and begin working through the knots in my hair. The water in it forces its length down past my armpits, temporarily smoothing out the waves and curls. A few slender braids Portia had woven out of boredom during our travels sway just within my peripheral vision.

It's only then that I take notice of Lucio. He's still standing like he was when I had first undressed to bathe, only he seems closer, several feet from the rocks he was at, and the water now down to his waist. He stands ridged, giving me sideways glances that reek of... I don't know what. Suspicion? Guilt? Desperation?

Is he... trying to move closer to me?

I move my gaze off of him and make myself look busy, washing dirt off of my arms and shoulders before tossing another glance back to him. He's still there, still standing ridged, and  _definitely_  a couple of feet closer. Definitely suspicious, but The Fool said I could trust him.

"I don't have the plague, Lucio," I call out, rolling my eyes, "You can come over here if you want, I guess."

I didn't think it was possible, but the blush that appears on Lucio's face completely overwhelms his sunburn. If it could be the same temperature it was last night, I'm positive steam would be rolling off of his skin.

Lucio moves until we stand just a few feet away from each other. He's quiet for a moment before deciding to speak.

"I, uh, never got the chance t-to thank you for what you did for me last night," he stammers, "You passed out before I really had the chance."

I try not to look surprised as I absorb his words. I almost can't believe this is Lucio I'm talking to. 'Turned over a new leaf'? That must have been one  _hell_  of a leaf!

"Don't mention it..." I reply curtly.

"How do you feel?"

"How do I feel?"

"Well, after you healed my arm, you collapsed. You were in a cold sweat the first half of the night. I thought something was terribly wrong."

I shrug, "That usually happens whenever I use that spell. Granted, I usually use it on smaller injuries. It just took a lot of magic, that's all... How's that arm?"

Lucio looks at the injury almost like he's forgotten it's there, "Pretty good. Still smarts, but not nearly as bad."

I can't help but laugh, "Yeah, well, you  _were_  mauled by a tiger."

Lucio let's out a laugh. The way he smiles is different compared to the ones I saw in portraits of him at the palace, and even more different from the smug grin he held during his grand return. This one almost feels affectionate, in a way; something like a mix between bashful and thankful. It feels... nice; less like a tyrannical count, and more like a humble outcast.

"So what's on the agenda today?" I ask as we begin making our way back to shore.

"We'll head towards the west side of the island," Lucio states, "The trees are more dense. It'll provide us with a lot more shade. On our way there, we'll keep an eye out for your tarot cards, in case any washed up overnight. I sense a storm coming within these next couple of days, so we should remain vigilant and keep any empty containers on hand for that so we'll have fresh water. Then, towards late afternoon, early evening, we'll see what food we can find..." Lucio pauses, clamping his mouth shut as if he'd said too much, "That is, unless you wanted your own campsite. In which case we should focus on getting that set up."

I eye him curiously, a bemused smirk threatening to break through my expressions. It felt like he  _wanted_  us to stick together, and building a whole new campsite felt like a lot of unnecessary work if Lucio already had one set up. And, difficult as it was to admit it to myself, I was starting to like this new Lucio.

"Will there be tigers? I ask.

Lucio barks out laugh, "Not unless we're cooking up another seafood feast, and like I said, my fishing skills are nothing to write home about. There will be plenty of fruit and roots, though."

I can't contain my giggles as a give a shrug, "Then I'm in-"

The word hangs from my mouth as my eyes wander Lucio's body, and I feel a blush explode across my face. I'd been so wrapped up in our conversation as we made our way up onto the beach that I had forgotten a very important matter until we were well away from the water.

Lucio and I were still completely naked.


	6. Chapter 6: The Journey to West Camp

**Chapter 6: The Journey to West Camp**

 

The walk to West Camp is exhausting. As it turns out, where we had been, where I had washed up on shore, was the east side of the island, and according to Lucio, it was going to take us half of the day to cut across the forest to the other side. I knew the journey would be even more grueling if we were to travel along the shoreline without any shade to protect us from the sun, and Lucio’s skin looked like it’d only be able to take so much more before it melted off completely.

We travel light, only bringing a few bottles of water from Lucio’s supply, the clothes on our backs, and a small handful of tarot cards we managed to recover from around the shore before we set off. Apart from The Fool, the only cards we managed to recover were from the minor arcana. Even so, just having them there and intact gave me a great deal of comfort. It almost felt like they were cheering me on, letting me know that the rest of the deck would appear again, eventually.

Lucio starts on a path snaking its way through the dense foliage; not as prominent as the path leading from shore to East Camp, but still well-travelled and clearly visible in the shade. Around us, the forest is alive with birdsong and colorful insects buzzing about. I almost freeze when I spot a red beetle marching along a low-hanging tree branch, only to relax as it bore little resemblance to the plague beetles that once terrorized Vesuvia. On the occasion, I catch glimpse of a jackal or a bear, but they only spare us a passing glance before scattering into the brush, or resuming going about their own business.

More than once, I stop to admire the exotic plant life that grows here. Flowers bloom in a rainbow of colors, most of which I had never seen before. Many kinds of trees grow here, but I can’t name any of them, other than the occasional palm tree. Even some of the moss looks foreign to this world; thick, fluffy, sometimes looking teal or blue with the right combination of sunlight and shade. More than once, I become so captivated that I almost lose sight of Lucio as he pushes ahead.

The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but it isn’t exactly welcoming, either. Dozens of questions hang over my head like a fog, and I can sense Lucio has a few questions of his own.

“You said you were marooned here?” I pipe up.

Lucio looks over his shoulder at me. Something in his gaze looks pained, as if the memory itself is nightmarish, if not a little embarrassing.

"That's right," he replies with a sigh, "Dropped off, left behind, and forgotten about, like trash."

I bite my bottom lip, holding back a snicker. Since Lucio's banishment, his name and memory has become little more than a joke to all of Vesuvia, and had officially become a pseudonym for trash, garbage, or otherwise tacky. I'd officially lost count of how many times Asra, Julian, Nadia, Portia, and I would just sit around making fun of our whole ordeal with him when he first returned, and the tantrums he'd throw when he didn't get his way.

"So... what happened?" I asked.

"Well, it was hell trying to find a ship that was willing to take me off of Vesuvia, first and foremost. I hadn't realized that when I was told that half of the city didn't want anything to do with me, it was true, but I was eventually granted safe passage on a ship that was heading to Prakra. There I boarded another ship, and about three more before finding myself on a ship manned by a crew that sought to sail around the world."

"So how did you end up here?"

"Well, three days into the ship's voyage, the crew decided they'd had enough of me. They tore off my prosthetic arm and tossed it below deck, likely to sell it or its precious metals to fund their trip. Then I was bound and gagged and tossed into a cell for another three days before the ship happened upon this island. The crew was quick to dump me off and leave before I could do anything about it."

I couldn't help but laugh, "You must have been  _so_  mad."

"Oh, I was! I spent... I don't know how long screaming and cursing at the crew until the ship's sails had long vanished into the horizon. Then I tried to see if there were any people living here, to no avail, aaand the rest is history."

"So you figured out how to survive out here all on your own?"

"That's right. Got sick once trying to drink the seawater, and several more times trying to figure out which kind of fruit, fungus, and roots were safe to eat. I faced quite a few injuries trying figure out how to make fire and building shelters,  _none_  of which were successes the first few attempts. In time I learned..."

Lucio's pace slows until he's stopped in the middle of the trail, his voice trailing off as a certain longing settles in his silvery gaze.

"I... I realized that I had everything when I was a count. Power, a palace, a wife, friends, and I didn't have to wonder if the food I was eating was toxic or not; things that... I-I don't think I'll have again."

My heart clenches as I hear something in his voice break. What I would have given to see this bastard cry a year ago, and tell him right to his face that he deserved what he got after all the trouble he'd caused. Now, it was just... sad. Lucio really had changed, having learned the hard way that you don't know what you have until it's gone.

I rest a hand on his shoulder, clearly agitating the sunburn there as Lucio gives a visible wince.

"The one thing I've learned from being trapped in ridiculous places, and going on ridiculous journeys is to never lose hope," I say, giving him what I hope is a reassuring look, "Because what good does giving up do you? Just make the most of the situation, and you'll find a way out along the way."

Lucio shoots me a look like I've asked him to do the impossible, but I know it can be done. After having my body taken from me, traveling through various realms of the arcana, getting my body back,  _and_ binding the Devil,  _nothing_ feels impossible. I know Lucio isn't any good at magic, but I know it won't take magic for him to find a way off this island. Heck, he seems to have established himself so well here that he might not even have a problem staying.

Eventually, Lucio's expression breaks into a reassured smile, "Thank you, Akari. I... I think I needed to hear that."

I nod and we continue on our way.

"So what happened?" Lucio inquires suddenly, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that those tarot cards were your most prized possession. How'd they end up in the ocean?"

I sigh irritably, " _That_  would be Julian's doing. He ripped the deck out of my hands, and threw it overboard during one of our last fights, a few hours before the storm hit."

“Ohhoho! Asra’s going to be hopping mad about that!”

I didn’t doubt that. He was pissed when he’d discovered Julian had scribbled all over one of his spell books. He was definitely going to get an earful the next time he saw Asra, and, if I was being honest, I was looking forward to the beat down Julian was likely going to receive.

The sound of rushing water to my left pulls my gaze towards an alcove just beyond the trees. The sun peeking through makes light reflect off of a small waterfall cascading down a steep slope. There’s something there, pulling at my mind like an invisible thread; something that needed to be seen. I step off the trail, ignoring the scraping of branches and bushes as I trudge through the dense foliage.

“Um, Akari?” I hear Lucio call out from behind me, “Where are you going? The camp is this way.”

Ignoring his remarks, I reach the edge of the alcove, gazing down into the hollow below. The walls are steep on all sides, likely making any access down there treacherous, if not impossible. The waterfall flows into a wide pool that narrows down into a stream leading into a cave of some sort. The land around it is teaming with bushes bearing deep purple berries. Whatever is calling to me is down there. I know it.

Lucio walks up beside me and peers over the slope with caution.

"Tell me you're not thinking about going down there."

"There's something there," I respond, "Something that needs to be seen."

Lucio shakes his head, "You magic types are something else. Well, if you're so sure, I suppose there's gotta be some way of getting down there."

I nod, reaching out with my magic, trying to find a path leading down. The place seemed to be abundant with food and water. There were bound to be animals that manage to come and go from this spot frequently.

My thread of magic leads us to a slope that is less steep than all the rest. The way down isn't so much of a walk as it is a slide as we slip on our heels until we've reached the bottom.

The moment the ground levels out beneath me, the atmosphere of the forest changes. I feel as though I've fallen into a pit. It feels dark and deadly and toxic. The water from the falls no longer glitters and the bushes with their berries give off an ominous aura. The miasma here is suffocating. I can tell Lucio sense it too, as he seems just as on-edge and alert as he was the night before, just before Nero attacked.

"Don't eat the berries," he warns me, "I've tried these before. You'll be sick for days if you so much as eat one."

His warning makes me walk by each bush with caution as I continue to follow the thread towards the cave while Lucio inspects the water. Pale shapes litter the ground, surrounded by clumps of decaying skin and fur. Many animal carcasses surround us in varying stages of decomposition, having fallen victim to the fruit's appetizing appearance.

As I enter the mouth of the cave, I hear Lucio sputter behind me.

"Do  _not_  drink the water! It's rancid."

Go figure. Countless carcasses have probably rotten away in that pool, the animals probably hoping they could ease the symptoms of the berries' poison before they breathed their last. This whole place seems to be a living death trap.

There's just enough light from outside the cave for me to see what I need to. The first thing my gaze fixes on is a large travel pack leaning against the stone walls. It's old and worn, likely having sat there for several years, sheltered from the elements. The next thing my eyes settle on sends a chill over my body. A pile of human bones lie in a heap further back in the cave; yellow with scraps of flesh and clothing just barely hanging on to it. The face of the skull seems to be twisted in an expression of pure agony.

For several minutes, I can't move. My heart pounds in my chest as I imagine the kind of journey this poor soul went through before he died. A story pieces itself together as if I'm experiencing this person's memories for myself; shipwrecked or marooned, trying to find food, water, and shelter, happening upon this little alcove, eating a handful off the poisonous berries and drinking a little bit of the tainted water, all of which causes them to become violently ill.

And then they died, scared, suffering, and alone.

A shudder runs through me as Lucio approaches, coming up beside me and resting a hand on my shoulder to guide me away from the macabre scene.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I manage a small nod, my eyes never leaving the corpse until the mouth of the cave vanishes from sight. It’s a struggle, but we manage to scramble back up the slope out of the alcove and find our way back to the path that leads to West Camp. Lucio looks just as I imagine I look right now; grey in the face, expression twisted in a blend horror and disgust at what we’d found in that peaceful-looking hollow.

We continue on our way in total silence.


	7. Chapter 7: The Alcove

For a while, all I can think is that Lucio and I just walked in a really big circle. The balmy heat of the day has started to mellow out with the onset of the evening. Every tree and bush looks the same, making it impossible to know for sure if we've already taken a certain stretch of the trail. Didn't we pass that palm tree an hour ago? Isn't that the same rock we've passed by three times already? Who can say for sure? All I can do at this point is trust that Lucio knows where the hell he's going.

We haven't said a word to each other since we left the alcove, and Lucio still looks as grey and unnerved as when we left. His skin is slick with sweat, and there were a few times where I could have sworn he was going to throw up. His pace remains steady, though, and the sureness of his steps is the only thing reassuring me that he's all right and that we're not hopelessly lost.

Eventually, the path turns down a slope, and I'm aware of the sound of rolling waves growing closer and closer with each step. The path opens up to a clearing, just like the one on the east side of the island. Rather than a clearing with a bonfire pit and a shelter built from branches and fronds, however, this path opens up near the mouth of a cave draped in vines. It sits directly next to the water; the entirety of the campsite sits on smooth, cool sand as the trees shield it from the unforgiving sun. My eyes make note of the various berry bushes surrounding it, and I eye them wearily as my stomach lets out a disruptive growl. After what I witnessed in the alcove, I feel more cautious of the berry-bearing foliage around me.

My fear dissipates quickly though as I watch Lucio pluck several berries from each of the bushes and shovel them unceremoniously into his mouth. The tension in his features eases into relief and ecstasy as he lets out a slight moan. Curious, I sample a few ripe-looking berries from the nearest bush. I almost cry out as the skin of the berries break between my teeth, releasing the sweet juices held inside. It almost tastes like a perfectly ripened strawberry. Before I know it, I'm eating them by the handful until the bush is nearly bare.

"I think you'll find this camp a little bit more to your liking," Lucio comments, licking his fingers clean of the berries' bright red juices.

"Yeah?" I respond, "What makes you say that?"

Lucio gestures towards the cave, "See for yourself."

Curiosity takes hold. I cross the clearing, taking a questioning glance to Lucio before slipping through the vines and into the mouth of the cave. It's dark, but nowhere near as ominous and foreboding as the one in the alcove. It feels safe and secure, almost familiar, making me relax as my toes burrow into the soft, cool sand.

Unlike the shelter at East Camp, there is no bed. The only indication that this is where Lucio sleeps is a mound of sand covered with a pillow of moss, and a massive pelt. The orange and black fur makes me pause. Another tiger? Lucio had mentioned that there were other tigers on this island apart from Nero, I just never imagined he'd managed to  _kill_  one, and this one looked like it'd been a lot larger than Nero.

As I move deeper into the cave to investigate, a flicker of light along the walls catches my attention. It's only then that I notice the various symbols and designs that are carved into the stone, slowly illuminating almost as if they're greeting me. Many symbols catch my attention; a fox, an owl, a bear, a wolf, a ram, a horse, a stag, a raven, a cat. I instantly recognize them as members of the major arcana, but why were they here? What does this mean?

I press my hand against the carving of the fox, looking deep into the symbol's hollow, mischievous gaze. For a moment, I think I hear Asra's voice; distant, his words barely reaching my ears.

" _Akari... Lost... have to find... have to try..._ "

Who was he talking to? Was this something from the past? Was he saying it now? He sounded frantic.

My fingers drift over to the carving of the ram and my eyes slip closed as I focus on the magical energy radiating from it. An image of Consul Valerius emerges from the darkness, sitting in a plush-looking chair, wine glass in hand as he gazes longingly out one of the palace windows.

I repeat the action with the bear's symbol. The rough sound of a knife sliding across a piece of wood fills my ears, along with the crackling of fire. I can see Muriel sitting next to the fireplace in his hut, his hair hanging in his face as he whittles in silence.

I force myself to pull my hand away from the images, sending a rush of energy through my head as I'm pulled back to my current surroundings. Lucio is standing beside me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What was that?" I ask.

Lucio shrugs, "I'm not really sure. A window, perhaps? Let's you see what people you know are up to. That is, so long as they represent a member of the major arcana."

"You mean you've seen them, too? You hear them?"

"I can just barely hear them. Incoherent whispers and vague sounds. That's about it."

That's right. Asra told me Lucio wasn't all that good at magic. The difference is clearly visible here. Around me, the carvings light up in a rainbow of colors, while those around him glow dimly in a sad shade of blue.

Lucio's hand brushes against a dustier portion of the wall, uncovering another carving; a goat. He presses his hand against it and his eyes slip closed. His face contorts, grimacing in pain and fear. I can practically feel his heart thundering in his chest. Without thinking, I rest a hand on his shoulder, and I'm bombarded with an enraged shriek and an unbearable, searing heat.

" _You'll be sorry! You'll all be sorry! I'll be free on day, and when that day arrives, I'll-_ "

I pull my hand away, slightly unnerved. So the Devil was still cursing us for binding him, even after a whole year. How infantile. Or perhaps he could hear us listening. Either way, it didn't matter. It'd be thousands of years before he'd be able free himself of his bindings, and I was hell-bent on making sure that there'd be somebody there to stop him again, whether it was writing it in a book, teaching a future apprentice, or passing the knowledge down to any children I might have. Someone would be there to stop him, and I made sure to assure him of that as I let that thought fill my soul.

After a few long moments, the Devil's tantrum finally fell silent as Lucio pulled his hand away from the carving.

"I thought you might like this place," he said quietly, "I imagine a magician carved these symbols eons ago, back when this island was a part of a larger hunk of land."

I shrugged, "Maybe. Then again, I'm curious. Why did you bring me out here? If the east side of the island is where I washed up, shouldn't we stay camped out on that side to keep a look out for help?"

Lucio shakes his head, "Do you remember what you said earlier about hope?"

I give a nod in response.

"When we were in that alcove... I lost it."

"What do you mean?"

"How long do you suppose that guy was on this island? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Long enough for him to rot away, leaving everything he left behind frozen in time."

"Still, that doesn't mean help isn't going to come for us. A ship is bound to cross this place sooner or later."

Lucio lets out a long sigh as he lets his eyes roam over the roof of the cave.

"When I was first left behind here, I spent days looking over the highest points of this island looking out for ships. I never saw any; not one. I admire your enthusiasm, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. After all..." Lucio straightens himself and points to the raven symbol on the wall, "The answer to your most burning question is right there."

With those words, I feel my heart leap so high, it might just rocket out of my chest. Of course! The arcana the Julian identifies with the most is The Hanged Man, and whenever he was involved in something, Malak was never too far off. This cave really  _could_ tell me the one thing I've been asking myself since I was first swept into the sea: were Julian and the others on Mazelinka's ship still alive?

Were they still alive? That's when I started asking myself the real question: was I ready to know? What if I reached out, and there was nothing? No voices, no images, no sounds. What if I had gotten lucky, and Julian, Portia, Mazelinka, and Nazali had all perished in the storm? Did I  _really_  want to know?

Hell, yeah, I was!

It'd only been a day, and the not-knowing was already eating me alive; not knowing if the crew was alive, not knowing if they were on route back to Vesuvia if they were, not knowing what I was supposed to do if I did ever see Julian again. I was  _done_  with it. I needed to know.

I pressed my hand against the raven's symbol, goosebumps racing up my arms as I feel my magic flare.

For a moment, the only sound I'm filled with is the sound of rolling waves. I sense the vastness of the ocean; nothing for miles but sea and sky. Then a distinct sound fills my ears, one that I often heard pounding over my head almost every other night on the ship; the methodical sound of Julian's boots pacing above deck. More fill my vision the more I focus; gangly legs, arms folded behind someone's back, auburn curls falling in a narrow face that is pale with fatigue and worry.

Julian! He's there! He's  _alive_! My relief makes me drop to my knees and cry out. Hot tears spill over my cheeks. If he's alive, chances are Portia and Nazali are alive, as well. Julian would sooner lop his own head of than see Portia hurt, let alone dead. And I knew for  _damn_  certain that Mazelinka was with them, too. Nothing was gonna kill that old crone.

"Akari?" I'm pulled back to reality when I feel Lucio wrap his arm comfortingly around my shoulder, "Akari, I'm so sorry. I... I just didn't want you to get your hopes up. I-"

Without much warning, I bury my face into his chest, unable to stop the tears. His feet slip beneath him as my impacts knocks him slightly off balance, and the hand reaches up to stroke my head.

"There, there. Everything's going to be all right. I'll... I'll make sure you're safe here."

For a moment I pause. I thought about messing with him a bit, making him believe I'd seen Julian's body amongst the ruins of the ship, or something. But  _this_  was  _wayyyy_ more intriguing. As he said that, just for a moment, Lucio sounded like he cared for me.

The thought causes me to struggle to keep my sobs from turning into hysterical laughter as I look at him pleadingly, "You will?"

Lucio's face is red, but clearly not with sunburn. His eyes dart back and forth. I can tell he wants to take a step back, but he's backed against the opposite wall of the cave. This close I can see his throat bob as he swallows uneasily. He almost looks caught between a rock and a hard place; wanting to comfort me, but weary of any boundaries he doesn't want to be caught crossing unwelcome.

He nods curtly, "I will. On my life. You have my word."

Interesting. I wonder...

My mind ponders over my next move. Julian is alive, likely wondering if I'm alive as well, but the tickle in my sleeve and feeling of warped paper still is still boiling my blood. Seeing him again still hasn't made me forgiven him for throwing Asra's tarot cards into the sea. All because he was upset. Then again, I'd be making things harder on myself if I...

Screw it!

I close my eyes and let myself lean forward. A surprised squeak leaves Lucio as our lips touch. They're surprisingly soft and gentle, caressing mine as they flare with the heat of an embarrassed blush. I can practically feel Lucio's heart fluttering in his chest. In the moment I feel... surprisingly good, like a hole is being filled. No shame. No guilt. Just...

Ecstasy.


	8. Chapter 8: The News

I can't sleep. It's the dead of the night. The moon sits high in the sky; just a sliver, but so bright that I can trace its circular shape against the darkness of the sky. The water seems calm, but the wind is gradually picking up, filling the campsite with the rustling of leaves.

I sit at the water's edge, starting into the vast open sea with a cluttered mind. Behind me, Lucio is sleeping soundly under the tiger skin pelt. Earlier, after our kiss and filling up on a bounty of fruit, I told Lucio everything. Julian was alive. All was well with the crew. Plans were probably underway to bring me back to Vesuvia as we speak...

And I had officially given up. Not on rescue, or returning home, but on Julian; on our relationship. It hurt to say it considering all we'd been through together; whether I remembered it, or it was lost among the various other things I couldn't remember from beyond four years ago. I don't think I'd be able to get through another fight without saying or doing something I wouldn't be able to take back, and it'd be even worse if it happened while we were out at sea again. It'd be best if we ended things, and continued on with our lives as friends.

Lucio had quite a bit to confess, as well. He brought up memories from my past, some sparking headaches, and others just leaving me terribly confused. It was a well-known fact that Lucio and Nadia's marriage was anything but traditional; no monogamous commitment, and no end to the amount of frivolous affairs on both sides. Apparently, Asra, Julian, and I were involved on more than one occasion, but while Asra and Julian seemed to favor Nadia more, I used to have Lucio wrapped around my finger. Who was always at the very top of the list to his parties? Me. Who was given the finest luxuries the palace could offer? Me. Who would be there to boost his ego after everyone else had enough of his boasting and tantrums? Apparently, me.

Of course, losing my memories changed me, seemingly for the better. I wasn't about to let him become the spoiled brat I saw strutting about the palace after he had stolen my body. I wasn't going to put him before anyone or anything else. Above all, I wouldn't let our relationship fall under the label of an affair. He and Nadia were over, and so were Julian and I, whether that slippery bastard knew it or not.

But then what? Help would come, eventually, and I would leave this island to return to the familiar comforts of Vesuvia. But what about Lucio? Nadia had made the terms of Lucio's banishment crystal clear. If he was spotted in Vesuvia or any of its associated territories, he'd spend the rest of his life in the dungeons, if not be executed on sight, and the odds of him finding safe passage aboard Mazelinka's ship was slim. After all, this is what this whole predicament could be about, too; him using me to gain safe passage off of the island, but what if it wasn't? What was I going to do? What was Lucio going to do?

"Akari..."

A familiar voice calling me from the water pulls me from my thoughts. The surface of the water shimmers as I see Asra's image appear. It looks like he's back in Vesuvia, having returned from wherever his latest journey took him. I make out the branches of a willow tree swaying behind him, and I realize he's at the fountain that sits in the palace gardens.

I scoot closer to him, smiling as he takes a moment to look me over, "You're back."

"I am," Asra says with a nod, "And I have good news and bad news."

It's never good when Asra says something like that. The bad news is almost always worse than the good news, making me forget the good news entirely. Even so, I knew the response that I had coming to me, even as the words leave my mouth.

"Tell me the bad news first."

As expected, Asra's face falls slightly as he shifts his weight on the lip of the fountain, "Well, the bad news won't make quite as much sense unless I give you the good news first."

I let out a sigh, "Go on."

"Alright, the good news is I've received a little help in trying to figure out if Mazelinka and everyone on your ship are all right."

A loud chirp sounds next to him and a familiar owl perches itself on one of his shoulders. Chandra, the Countess's mail owl. I watch as her head swivels around to gaze at me before leaning towards Asra to nibble at one of his cloud-like curls.

"Nadia sent her out to look for the ship as soon as I told her what had happened," he explains, "And she managed to bring a certain someone back with her."

I lean forward with interest as Chandra flutters off of Asra's shoulder. Moments later, another shape lands on his shoulder, croaking loudly at the opal owl with ruffled black feathers.

"Malak!"

My heart lights up at the sight of the ragged, rowdy raven. He gives me a curious look, almost as if to ask, "What are you doing in the fountain?"

"Chandra was gone all day today," Asra continues, "and when she came back, he came squawking in behind her. Chandra also returned with a letter from Portia. The ship is still in one piece, and she, Ilya, Mazelinka, and Nazali are still all right."

I sigh with relief. I figured the ship and its supplies must be in pretty good shape if Portia had managed to write to Nadia. Then again, I kind of expected as much after what I'd seen through the carvings inside our nearby cave.

"Thus where I get onto the bad news," the delight in Asra's eyes wavers as the smile falls from his face and is replaced with concern, "The bad news is that the ship is still three days away from Vesuvia, and it could be a few days more before there are enough supplies stocked on the ship to go out and search for you. It could be a couple of weeks before we're able to get you off that island. Maybe longer."

"I honestly would have been surprised if you'd said it'd take less time than that," I stated, "I'm pretty sure I can survive that long."

Asra nods before his expressions grow dark, "How are you and  _him_  getting along? Has he dropped the whole nice-guy act yet?"

"On the contrary, we've actually had a pretty adventurous couple of days."

I tell him about our encounter with Nero, and the injuries Lucio faced as a result. I tell him about our trip to West Camp, and what we saw in the alcove. I tell him about the cave that sits on our campsite and the carvings that I saw. Asra hangs on to every story and detail with interest, but I can tell he knows I'm hiding some things. Some things I'm sure he wouldn't be the least bit happy to hear about.

"Wow..." Asra says as he rests his chin in his palms, "Lucio's never been the type to do anything like that for anyone, ever. Ahhhh, I wish I could have seen him get mauled by that tiger, but... Akari, is there more to it? I feel like there's something that you're not telling me."

My face must betray my thoughts, because Asra's features immediately light yup with a playful tease.

"Ooohh, I know that look!"

"Look? What look?"

Asra points and lets out a slight laugh, " _That_  look. You only ever make that look when you've done something you're not supposed to. You always have."

Easy for him to say. It was only a few months ago, while we were having tea with Nadia, that he revealed that we had known each other for ten years; six of which that were completely gone from my memory on account of the plague. Whatever this look is that he's talking about, though, he isn't wrong.

"Akari," Asra says teasingly, "What did you do?"

I feel stuck. He knows I'm hiding something, and he'll pry it out of me one way or another, but how was he going to react if I told him I was breaking things off with Julian for  _Lucio_? Asra merely didn't trust Julian, not for a while, at least. He  _hated_  Lucio, whether he's turned over a new leaf or not.

The conflict must show, because Asra's playful teasing tone lowers into concern and suspicion, and the question comes out a bit more rushed, "Akari, what did you do?"

I twiddle my fingers on my lap, choosing my words carefully.

"Speaking hypothetically, what would you do if I were to break things off with Julian?"

Asra's eyes go wide, "Akari..."

"Hypothetically speaking, of course!"

Asra is silent for a moment before he lets out a sigh.

"I'd have to ask why? You two seemed to be good for each other. I know Ilya... he'd be devastated. You mean the world to him. He'd be crushed, and I'd hate to see him relapse into his old ways."

An ache shoots through my heart. I knew it would hurt Julian in the end, but it would be better than to continue on fighting like we have been.

"Okay, and hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I... I don't know... kissed Lucio?"

The look that crosses Asra's face is one of absolute shock and disgust. His mouth hangs open in disbelief and his eyes are as wide as saucers. I might as well have told him that I undid the Devil's bindings to let him run amuck all over again.

Eventually his eyes close and he takes a deep breath, "Speaking hypothetically, eh?"

I nod, "Of course."

Asra's eyes point upwards towards the night sky. I can tell he's choosing his words just as carefully as I am.

"If Lucio has indeed turned over a new leaf, as you say, then I suppose it's not the worst thing you could do, but... Akari, I've known Lucio for far too long. He isn't a good person. I'd rather see you with the old Ilya than with Lucio," he pauses and sighs deeply, "But your intuition hasn't ever led you astray, has it? I can't let my own selfishness get in the way of what makes you happy. I just don't think it's wise to get yourself involved with somebody like him."

The look in Asra's eyes is pained, as if saying those words was no easier than swallowing shards of broken glass. What could I do? How could I get him to see what I was seeing in him? I could only tell Asra so much, and it wasn't like I was going to be able to drag Lucio back to Vesuvia with me so the two of them could get reacquainted...

Unless...

"What if the two of you just... talked?" I ask.

Asra shoots me a confused look, "What do you mean?"

"Well, Lucio is currently asleep in the cave behind me. He hasn't said a word against you since I've been here. I don't think he'd mind if I woke him up to see if you two can talk things out."

"Akari... I have my own reasons for hating Lucio. As much as the thought of him changing for the better appeals to me, there are some things in this world that just  _can't_ be forgiven."

For a moment, I think about just letting the topic go. Whatever Lucio had done to Asra in the past, whatever slights they may have had for one another, they must have been pretty terrible, but I knew Asra. Now that the word was out, he'd worry over me like a mother hen. He'd probably find a way to get me off of this island himself, if he had to.

"Just  _talk_  to him," I urge, "I'm not asking you to forgive him. Heck, you don't even have to  _like_  him. Just talk to him."

Asra ponders over the request silently for a moment, and I see a number of emotions flash across his features; anger, annoyance, worry, intrigue, curiosity to name a few. Over all, he looks completely torn, wanting to see this new Lucio that I seem to speak so highly of, but not wanting anything to do with it simply because it's, well,  _Lucio_.

"I don't have to like him?" Asra inquires as his gaze fixes onto me.

"Not even a little bit. Just hear him out. See him for yourself. Give him a piece of your mind, if you want. Hey! If you think he has something to hide, there's a spell you could cast to pry the truth out of him; you know the one."

A mischievous look flickers across Asra's features, "Plotting against your own lover now, are you?"

A fiery heat explodes across my cheeks, "That's not... he's not... It isn't..."

My ears burn as I flounder with my words, all the while Asra collapses in a fit of hysterical laughter. He's enjoying this, and I hate it, but if it'll get him to cooperate, I'll take it.

"Oh, Akari, you know I can't say no to you," he chuckles, "Alright, I'll agree to talk to him. However..." Asra quickly pulls himself together, and his serious front is put up once more, "If he makes one false move, any indication that he's lying or planning on using you, I'll come over there and kill him myself."


	9. Chapter 9: The New Lucio

Lucio sleeps restlessly in the far corner of the cave, tiger skin pelt wrapped around his curled up form like a security blanket. Every inch of him looks tense. His fingers hold the patterned fur in a death grip as his toes curl into the bottoms of his feet. His brows knit together as he mutters something indiscernible through a clenched jaw. I can tell he's in the middle of a terrible nightmare, and even though he's asleep, he still looks bitterly exhausted.

Ordinarily, I would have thought twice about waking him up in such a state, remembering the countless times I had hit or kicked Asra whenever he'd wake me up from a nightmare. But, as it stands, I really don't have much of a choice. Asra just agreed to speak to Lucio, and I'd rather it happen before he changed his mind.

Carefully, I rest a hand on his shoulder and stroke it gently with my thumb. Lucio wakes with a start, lifting his head quickly as his eyes dart around before they land on me. He holds his breath for a moment before letting it go in a relieved sigh.

"Oh, it's just you..." he mumbles groggily, "What's the matter? Can't sleep?"

I shake my head, although he wasn't wrong, "Asra's here. He said he wants to talk to you."

"Asra wants to talk..." his voice trails off as his jaw stretches in a painfully wide yawn, "Okay, okay... I'm coming..."

I can tell his mind is not fully awake yet, and that he doesn't understand that we're still on the island, miles away from Vesuvia, and that the only reason Asra was here to talk was through his magic. Lucio can barely keep his eyes open as he struggles to untangle himself from the furs covering him before staggering to his feet. I exit the cave first, sitting back down in front of Asra's image. A few seconds later, Lucio shuffles in behind me with half-lidded eyes... and stumbles head first into the water.

"What was that?" Asra asks, chuckling as his image ripples with the disturbance.

"Lucio," I reply curtly, "He's not awake yet."

Lucio comes up sputtering, likely chilled to the bone by the cold water.

"I am now, by God!" Lucio wipes the water from his eyes as he drags himself out of the shallows. He shakes the water pointlessly from his tangled locks before he walks over and settles himself beside me.

"Out for a late night swim, Lucio?" Asra inquires mockingly, "I  _love_  what you've done with your hair."

Lucio stares in awe and confusion at Asra's image in the water for a moment, and I can see the struggle in his mind as he tries to comprehend what he's seeing.

"Oh, so you  _are_  here," he finally says, scratching his head, "I thought I was still dreaming."

Asra lets out a disinterested hum. He said he would talk, but I wasn't so sure he was willing to listen. I've seen him do this with Julian from time to time, though he usually just tunes out his chattering and spreads out on a pillow pile. With Lucio, he was just bitter and annoyed, taking everything coming from his mouth with a pinch of salt.

We sit there in awkward silence for a moment before Lucio decides to speak again.

"So, uh. Akari said that you wanted to speak with me?"

Asra's expression darkens. I can see the reluctance and annoyance build inside of him. I'm pretty sure he'd like nothing more than to make Lucio disappear from the face of the earth, if he could. He hasn't cast the spell yet, but I can already tell he's carefully watching him, looking for the slightest hint of the old Lucio lurking in the wet, shivering form beside me.

"I agreed to talk," he says bluntly, "It seems you and Akari have been getting along swimmingly lately."

A sheepish look crosses Lucio's face as he glances over to me. I give him an encouraging smile as I rest my hand on his knee and he laces his fingers in with mine, "We have."

"And wasn't it just a year ago you didn't give a damn? You took their body, and then proceeded strutting about like nothing had happened. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Lucio already looks like he's been backed into a corner, unsure of how to respond. I'm sure he was tired of repeating himself after all the grief I gave him; telling me that being marooned on this island and forced to fend for himself had changed him, but I could sense that it was the only reason there was and that it was the only one he could think of.

"This island has a way of changing a man," he says carefully, "No servants doting on my every need. No parties to throw. No luxuries like silks and riches. No... No status. There's just me, and if I was going to survive here, nobody was going to help me except for me."

"But now it's  _not_  just you," Asra points out, quirking a brow, "There's Akari. Finally, someone to push around and bark orders at, so what's stopping you?"

I clench my free hand into a fist, trying not to let my irritation show. He's always going on about how strong and gifted I am back at home. He should have half the mind to know that I'd never let Lucio push me around. Asra was sure to have his suspicions about him turning over a new leaf, but there seemed to be no trusting or believing anything that came out of his mouth, and I could tell that his bitterness was already wearing away at Lucio's patience, too.

"I just couldn't do it," he states irritably, "What do you want from me? A blood sacrifice? My other arm? Do you  _want_  me to boss Akari around?" Lucio turns to me and mocks the nasally, pompous tones his voice carried when we faced him in the Devil's realm, " _AKARI! WHY are you just SITTING THERE?! Build me A PALACE! Find me some REAL FOOD! I'm sick of living like a street urchin! Am I not the Count?!_ "

I giggle, trying helplessly to hold it together as I play along, " _Oh, I'm soooooo sorry, milord! I shall bring you only the finest silks and furs! You shall have ox tartare for dinner, and I'll pick at last night’s table scraps!_ "

" _Mmmhmmmm... See to it would you?_ "

Asra looks so done with our little display, pinching the bridge of his nose irritably as he's forced to listen. Lucio and I laugh over our dramatization for a few seconds longer before he turns back to Asra, resting his elbow on a knee as his chin sits in an upturned palm.

"What is it that you want from me, Asra?" he asks, "Blood? Sweat? Tears? What's it going to take for you to believe me?"

Asra lifts his gaze and mocks a pondering look. I already know what he's going to say before he says it.

"There is  _one_  thing you can do for me," he says slowly, "It'll take some cooperation on your part, though, Lucio."

"Of course. Just tell me what it is I need to do for you to trust me."

"Close your eyes, and count down from ten."

Lucio shoots him a puzzled look, clearly thrown off by the simplicity of the request, "That's it? Close my eyes, and count down from ten?"

"Count as fast or slow as you want. Out loud, or in your head. It doesn't really matter to me."

Lucio looks at me, clearly searching for some sort of affirmation. I can only give him a shrug and a nod. He hesitates for a brief second before his eyes slip closed and his mouth begins moving silently.

" _Ten... nine... eight... seven..._ "

His pace is steady. Not fast, but rhythmic, like hands ticking on a clock. Meanwhile, I can sense the magic Asra's directing towards him, putting the truth-be-told spell in place by the time Lucio hits four. The spell is wrapped around his tongue like a shackle, only to be undone whenever Asra pleases. He won't be able to lie, even if he wants to.

Three. Two. One.

Lucio opens his eyes and looks at Asra expectantly, "Alright. Now what?"

"Nothing," Asra says with a smirk, "That's it. I completely trust you, now."

Lucio glances over to me once again, clearly more confused than he was before this whole thing began. Again, I can only give him a shrug and a nod as my hand finds its place back on his knee. Secretly, I'm just as curious to see if he's been hiding anything from me.

"I never have been able to fully understand you magicians," he comments, "At this rate, I most likely never will."

Asra lets out a chuckle, smirking. He already knew that if this was the old Lucio, he would have never admitted such a thing. Apparently, in the past, Lucio thought himself an extremely powerful magician, when in reality his skill was beginner-level, at best. Making a deal with the Devil of the arcana was his only claim to fame, or rather  _infamy_ , in the ways of magic. All the evidence lay just beyond our shoulders in the carvings inside of the cave.

"Let me rephrase my previous question," Asra pipes up, locking eyes with Lucio, "Why be kind to Akari? What do you have to gain by befriending them?"

If there would have been any hesitation in his response without the spell, it was gone now. Lucio's response is immediate and unwavering.

"Because I don't want to be the old Lucio."

Asra's eyes are wide. Clearly, that wasn't the response he was expecting, "What do you mean?"

"I've been trapped on this island for almost a year, maybe longer. I had to learn to do everything myself, swallowing my pride and getting my hands dirty so I could figure out how to survive. I do miss my old life back in Vesuvia, but I  _do not_  miss the way I treated those around me... You especially, Asra."

There's something pained in his expression, a memory that haunts him like he's committed some horrific crime. Given how much of a tyrant Lucio was before the plague hit, it wouldn't exactly surprise me if his frivolous, careless, and ignorant behavior caused Asra some trouble. Julian, Muriel, and Nadia certainly hadn't been spared from his antics. Most likely Asra was no exception.

"I'm sure an apology doesn't exactly make up for it all," Lucio continues, his head weighted down with shame, "But I want to be better. I don't ever want to hurt anyone like that again, especially Akari."

Asra's listening attentively now, not exactly looking bored, annoyed, or confused. Just... unsure. Nobody can force a lie through a truth-be-told spell, whether the person is aware of it or not, but this was Lucio; the one person he had yet to set aside his hatred for.

Closing his eyes, Asra takes a deep breath and continues his inquiry, "What is Akari to you?"

It's dark out. The moon is naught but a sliver of silver in the sky. The ocean looks pitch black under the stars. Even so, the blush that explodes across Lucio's face doesn't go undetected by neither me nor Asra as I feel his hand turn hot and clammy in mine. For the first time, he looks completely perturbed, like he either can't find the words, or the answer is something he feels neither Asra nor myself will like.

"A toy?" Asra asks mockingly, "A distraction?"

"I would  _never_!" Lucio stands up so quickly that I'm nearly thrown back into the sand, "Never, not  _once_ have I ever saw them as a plaything! You know that as well as I that before the plague, I would have given anything for Akari's happiness. Those feeling haven't changed!"

Lucio struggles to calm himself as he sits back down beside me, only this time he sits himself to my left, making it easier to wrap his good arm around me. He practically slumps against my shoulder, weary from his emotions and lack of sleep.

"The day I made my deal with the Devil, something happened," Lucio states in a low voice, "Instead of love and admiration, I was filled with hate and envy. But somewhere deep down I felt my heart calling out to them, begging to be free from this nightmare. When Akari had told me that they had died of the plague..."

A shiver runs through Lucio as he sinks his teeth into his lip. Tears pool into his eyes as they veer off into the distant horizon, clearly remembering the brutal agony the sickness had wrought.

"I... I started to remember, and I realized they didn't, and I  _hated_  myself."

A sorrowful expression eclipses Asra's expressions, likely thinking back to the three years he spent teaching and retraining me. Something lingers in his eyes, like there's something he wants that he hasn't been able to reach.

"Was it worth it?" he finally asks. There is no jest or venom in his words now. Just a need, like he's longing for some sort of closure or peace of mind.

Lucio shakes his head, "No. No, it wasn't. If I could do it again, I'd... I'd have let the plague take me."

A sob racks Lucio's form as he pulls away from me, burying his face in his knees in shame. I rub a hand reassuringly over his back, drawing more out from within him, causing his shoulders to jerk erratically with distress. We sit in silence. I am completely speechless, stunned and morose just as Asra is as he sits there quietly watching us. It's a lot to take in, a lot that was either shrouded in bad memories or had been forgotten completely.

"I accept..."

The words come out of Asra's mouth so quietly that they're almost lost among the sound of wind and rolling waves.

Lucio lifts his head and turns his tear-streaked face towards his image, "What?"

"You wanted to apologize, right? For everything? I didn't think... I didn't know you were missing some memories, too, that made you less of a pain to deal with... You were still an ass, though, regardless, and in terms of what you did to my  _parents_ , I'm still not going to forgive you for that. But..." Asra trails off as he looks Lucio over before dropping his gaze to his lap, "I've never seen you like this, and you  _were_  honest with me, so I'll forgive you for everything else,  _for now_."

That seemed to be enough for Lucio as he manages a small smile and nods, "Thank you, Asra."

"No. No, thank  _you_! You handled the truth-be-told spell like a champ."

"What-"

In typical Asra fashion, Asra's image vanishes from the shallows before Lucio can get a word in, leaving a singsong of a good-bye playing on our ears before we find ourselves alone together once more.


	10. Chapter 10: The Tigress

The low rumble of distant thunder jostles me from my sleep. Outside of the cave, the skies are grey and the air is thick with humidity. The wind howls aggressively, rattling the trees and shaking the bushes surrounding the campsite.

Lucio's arm is lifelessly draped over my waist while I use the stump of his other arm as a pillow, keeping my head elevated off of the sand below us. My track record of being a blanket hog still stands as I realize I'm cocooned in the tiger pelt, leaving Lucio with the patch of fur that I assume must have once been the tiger's head. He must not be bothered by it much, as he lays completely relaxed beside me, soft snores bouncing off the stony walls surrounding us.

I turn over, being careful not to disturb Lucio as I face him and take in his sleeping expressions. His harpoon-shaped brows gently arch over his eyes. Barely audible snores escape through his partially parted lips, and, as usual, his hair flows in a tangled, golden mess behind him. A small smile graces my lips as I watch him. I almost don't want him to wake up, after watching him struggle with his dreams before waking him last night and seeing how exhausted he looked after speaking with Asra, but I hadn't forgotten what Lucio had told me about the storm. This could be our only chance to collect fresh water until the next storm hits, and who knows when that might be.

I rest my hand against his cheek and stroke it with my thumb. Lucio stirs, inhaling deeply through his nose as his eyes blink open. A smile graces his lips as his gaze fixes on mine.

"Good morning," he murmured groggily.

"Good morning," I reply, offering him a kiss.

Lucio kisses back with a small peck before dislodging his arm from under my head and slowly sitting up. He looks towards the mouth of the cave and lets out a sigh.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a busy day ahead of us," he comments, "Rain will be coming down in buckets any minute."

I trail behind Lucio as he exits the cave, shaking the sand from our clothes as we go. Around us, the forest is dark with thick layers of dark grey clouds blanketing the skies above. Leaves and other debris from the surrounding landscape swirl in the air as the wind whips through the campsite. There's an aggressive energy in the air, almost as if this storm has every intention on ripping the island apart.

Snatching a twig from the undergrowth, Lucio crouches over a bare patch of sand and draws an intricate shape on the ground. It looks like a warped, upside down star. He draws four points within the shape and connects them with lines that dizzily bend and weave inconsistently.

"What is that?" I ask curiously, yelling to be heard over the wind.

"It's the island," Lucio calls back, "or at least a rough sketch of it. These four points mark where I've set up camp. Every one of them has empty bottles to collect rain water. We need to make sure they're all full before this storm passes."

Reluctance sits like a rock in my stomach, remembering our journey from East Camp, "We're going to all of them?"

Lucio shakes his head, "North Camp is three hours, roughly, from here. South Camp is a bit further, but is just about two hours from East Camp. We'll have to split up in order to get it all done in time."

Split up? In this weather?

"Wouldn't to be easier and safer if we stick together?" I ask, "I don't think either of us should be going out in this alone."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Akari, but we'll be out all day and night doing this if we go together. If we split up, we should both be back here well before nightfall. One of us can take North and West Camp. The other will take South and East."

The reluctance sitting in my stomach starts twisting into dread. It felt like something bad would happen to one of us if we didn't do this together. We really shouldn't be splitting up, but there didn't seem to be any way of convincing him otherwise. Besides, up until now Lucio had been doing this by himself. He more than likely  _had_  spent all day and night setting up these bottles to ensure he had plenty of drinking water.

"Alright," I sigh begrudgingly, "I can take North Camp and meet you back here when I'm done."

"Are you sure?" Lucio inquires, "I thought you'd be eager to go back to East Camp. You know, in case more of your cards turn up?"

I open my mouth to say something, only be cut off by a flash lightning splitting the sky over our heads. The air around us trembles with a deafening clap of thunder, and I feel the first drops of rain land along my arms.

"I don't think this is the type of weather to go card hunting in," I state, "The cards can wait until the storm passes."

Lucio nods. He stands up and crosses the campsite, pulling out something hidden within the surrounding foliage; a pair of spears. How was he even able to make those? Missing an arm, and all; it was interesting enough watching him handle the flint the other night, and managing to spark it. The spears appear to be fairly durable, as well, made from long, straight branches tipped with stones that seemed to have been chipped into a sharp point. Sharp enough to pierce the hide of a tiger, as I think back to the fractured half of the spear Lucio managed to bury into Nero's shoulder.

Nero. The tigers. As I take one of the spears into my hands, I am reminded of something Lucio had mentioned that night beside the campfire.

"Didn't you say the tigers live on the north side of the island?"

Lucio straightens and twirls his spear in his hand, "Hence why I gave you that spear as a precaution, but let’s be honest with ourselves here. Nero caught you off guard last time. You rarely make the same mistake twice. You're more than capable of protecting yourself, even against Nero."

"And the others? What if Nero isn't alone this time?"

"The only other tigers on this island that I know of are Nero's mother and his brother, and like I said; the mother's a gentle giant."

"And the brother?"

Lucio shrugs, "Shy. He usually hides, unless you corner him."

I sigh irritably. If I'd have to name something about Lucio that  _hadn't_  changed, it'd have to be his stubbornness.

"Okay," I reluctantly agree, "but if I get mauled by a tiger, I'm blaming you."

Lucio barks out a laugh, "That's the spirit!"

He points me in the direction of the trail I need to follow to reach North Camp, and we kiss one last time before setting off in opposite directions.

As I set off, the rain starts coming down in buckets, and it isn't long before I'm soaked to the bone. The sound it makes as it hits the canopies of the trees is deafening. The dense foliage blocks most of the wind, only knocking me aside when I pass a break in the trees.

Deeper in the forest, it's almost as dark as night, only being illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning. The roar of thunder is so loud at times that it hurts my ears. As the dirt beneath my feet turns to mud, I use the butt of the spear to help trudge along the path.

On the occasion, I spy a glass bottle or a jar leaning up against a tree, or strategically placed where rainwater can flow directly into it. Some are only filled halfway, others are overflowing and spilling out at the top. I must be getting close, and I make careful note of where each container is as I move along.

It feels like an eternity by the time I reach North Camp, or what's left standing of it. The campsite is overgrown with vegetation, almost overtaking the mouth of another cave situated in a nearby slope. As I approach, I trample the charred remains of a bonfire pit. Bits of twigs and logs burnt black roll under the soles of my feet as I pass by, staining the skin black. When was the last time Lucio was even at North Camp? It looks like nobody's been here in weeks.

I quickly duck into the cave, hoping to get a break from the torrential downpour before attempting to collect any sort of containers that could be used to harvest the rain's water. My clothes are once again heavy with water, sending misery shooting through me as I sit there shivering in the dark cavern.

Before I can get my bearings, I feel a hot breath on my shoulder and a low growl in my ear. I freeze, not daring to move as I hear the familiar crunching of dirt beneath four massive paws. A wet nose bumps my arm, and I feel the slightest touch of wet fur against my skin. As I look to my left, in the minimal light the day can offer through the storm in this cave, the massive head of a striped feline emerges from the shadows.

I scramble back and summon a bright ball of light to my hands. The tiger blinks at the sudden brightness, but doesn't move. Instead, it sits down, looking like a tall, regal statue as it watches me with curious yellow eyes.

It doesn't take me long to figure out that this isn't Nero. This tiger is far,  _far_  bigger, and looks much older. Dipping its head, the tiger places a paw on my lap in an almost comforting sort of way. Over the cat's shoulder, another striped face peers over at me, keeping its distance as it watches me.

These must be the two other tigers Lucio had mentioned; Nero's gentle giant of a mother, and his shy brother.

The massive tigress leans forward and begins dragging her tongue over my soaked scalp, pushing around what's left of my tight braids and entangling the fly-aways within the scratchy barbs. The second tiger takes a few steps towards me, curiosity and unease flickering in his gaze. All it takes is turning my head towards him to send the young tiger skittering to the back of the cave.

Lucio had named Nero. If I had to call that tiger anything, Shy would be perfect.

After having thoroughly messed up my hair, the tigress stands up and moves to sprawl out across the floor of the cave. Her size nearly challenges that of the horses I've seen at the palace. How did she get so  _big_?! More importantly, how did the tigers even come to live on this island? Were they brought here? Did they swim over from a larger piece of land that was nearby? Had they been here all along? It doesn't seem like their kind will last long out here, with limited prey sources and no signs of any eligible mates.

After taking a few minutes to catch my breath and rest my weary legs, I stand and make my way back towards the mouth of the cave. The rain was still coming down in waves, shaking the surface of the sea with millions upon millions of heavy drops. The unyielding wind made it difficult to see. Palm trees bowed, struggling to remain standing. A crack in the distance causes me to jump, followed by a crash. We'd be lucky if the storm didn't level the island by the time it was over.

I patrol the perimeter of the campsite, looking for any stray containers that could be used for collecting water. I manage to find a few empty bourbon bottles lying against the nearby shore. I guess Lucio was right. Stuff like this washed up on shore all the time.

Looking around, I manage to find a spot where water trickles steadily off of a bit of vegetation. Ignoring the rain beating against my back, I patiently wait until all the bottles I find are full. I fit what I can into the deep pockets of my pants and begin filling my arms with various bottles, jars, and containers as I start back down the path leading back to West Camp.


	11. Chapter 11: The Dream

Roughly a dozen glass containers of water are set against one of the walls of the cave when I return from North Camp. About a dozen more join them by the time I'm finished collecting those around West Camp and strategically placing out those that still need to be filled. By now, the storm has eased into a gentle downpour, filling the sky with light grey clouds. Lucio has yet to return, though that isn't so surprising as this little task took us to opposite ends of the island. It'd probably take him a couple more hours to get back here.

I pass the time by running my hands along the various carving inside of the cave, listening in on the various on goings of the people they're connected to. Through the fox, the Magician, I hear the light snores of Asra as he naps in the living area that sits above the shop. Through the owl, the High Priestess, I hear the musical coos of the pipe organ as Nadia plays in the parlor. Through the cat, the Star, I see Portia leaning over the railing of Mazelinka's ship, gazing out into the distance with a worried expression on her face. When I check on Julian through the raven's carving, all that fills my mind is the steady thumping of his boots against the deck as he paces, and paces, and paces. I wish there was a way to reach out to him to let him know I'm okay, that way he can at least get a little more rest, but it's no use. No matter how long my touch lingers over the carving, no matter if I speak out loud or through my thoughts, I can't be heard.

A shiver runs through me as I lean against the far wall of the cave. My clothes are still drenched in from being out in the storm, chilling me to the bone as bits of the breeze outside stirs the cool air around me. I wrap myself in the tiger pelt beside me, hoping to fight off at least some of the cold. There isn't a lot I can do about my clothes at the moment, and it'd be a pain if I were to get sick now.

Though my wet clothes aren't the least bit comfortable, the furs succeed in fighting off a little bit of the cold, warming me up just enough for my exhaustion to catch up with me. I curl up amidst the indentations left in the sand where Lucio and I had slept last night and doze off to the steady patter of the waning storm.

I'm not out of it for long before my dreams overtake the darkness of my vision. The sky is a mirage of black, purple, and blue with gold stars shining between the smoke-like curls like flakes of gold leaf. I'm standing in the middle of the town square back in Vesuvia. There's not a soul in sight. The cobblestone under my feet looks like blocks of obsidian set in a river of liquid silver. The buildings surrounding me look like little more than silhouettes set in the distance. The massive fountain in the middle of the square glows white like the moon, but the water that pours out of it is a deep blood red and moves in impossible directions. As I get closer, I realize that it isn't water that I'm looking at. They’re beetles. Thousands and thousands of Red Plague beetles scramble in and out of the fountain like it's their hive. Their scrambling fills the entire square with a sickening chattering sound.

As I stand there, looking in awe and disgust at the foul insects, another sound can be heard over the chattering; the clopping of hooves. The sound comes in loud, heavy-sounding cracks, like stone hitting stone. The steps are spaced out, as if whatever was making them was ambling along filled with dread. I hear it slowly emerging from the direction of the marketplace. I wheel around in search of the source of the clopping, but all I can see are warped, shadowy buildings and beetles as they open their wings and fly off; spreading their dreaded disease to who-knows-where.

I turn back towards the crimson-infested fountain, only to recoil in shock to find that I'm not alone. There, moving with heavy, lumbering steps into the square is a massive white goat with matted fur. It stands hunched over on its hind legs, red eyes burning as its mouth twists into a displeased scowl. A pair of large, black, spiraling horns crowns its head. I can't help but take note that the goat is missing its left arm.

I'd know that goat anywhere.

"Lucio?" I call out.

The goat's enormous head swings to the side to look at me. The corner of his mouth curls in a disappointed sneer, but he doesn't speak. His gaze doesn't display any hatred towards me, it seems. It's more like... self-loathing, like he's ashamed that I have to see him like this. He hangs his head, eyes hovering over the cobblestones as he sits on his haunches and rests his weight on his remaining arm. He can't hide, and I have a feeling that he has nowhere to run.

I approach him slowly. Now that I've gotten to know him, I don't fear this beastly ghost of him. But still, even though I know this is all a dream, I don't know if the goat I'm dealing with is the Lucio I've come to know during my time on the island, or if this is the old Lucio rearing his savage, ugly head.

He gives me a sideways glance as I come up beside him, his disgruntled expression deepening as I get a better look at him. His hide is crawling with plague beetles. Some dive for cover in the thicker fur around his neck and shoulders, others seem to be content with just hanging around and sinking their pincers in wherever they see fit. They swarm the scar left behind on his left arm from where it was amputated, trying to dig into the soft pink flesh that isn't covered by his coarse, snowy white fur.

Lucio lets out a snort and turns away from me, as if he can't stand me seeing him like this. I rest a reassuring hand on his arm and gently stroke the fur beneath my thumb. I wanted him to know that, no matter what, he'd still have me. With bygones aside, he had nothing to be ashamed of, and I felt no shame in loving him.

"I love you."

The words come out of my mouth so quietly that I almost don't hear them myself.

Lucio's body jolts with attention, ears perking as his head swings back to look at me, " _What?_ "

The word isn't so much harsh as it is confused. In the past, Lucio thought he was loved by all of Vesuvia, buying it all with his lavish parties and so-called "generosity". I think the truth of the matter was that they didn't love  _him_. They loved his parties. Had anyone ever said they  _really_  loved him?

I wrap my arms around his massive neck, ignoring the beetles that squirm to get out of the way. Heat radiates from his muscles like a hot stove, and his wiry fur carries the lingering smell of smoke and iron.

"I love you," I say again.

Lucio's shoulders shiver, " _Even now?_ "

"Even now."

The fur beneath my touch shifts before it begins to slide. It falls out of his skin in matted clumps, exposing pale, sweaty skin pulled taught over his bones. His breaths go from coming out in beastly snorts and growls to wheezy gasps. His bony ribcage rattles as his lungs fill with phlegm. As I look up to meet his gaze, I'm met with silver eyes surrounded by sickly red sclera. Golden hair is messily plastered to his face, and his lower jaw is covered in stubble that is a darker blond in color to his hair. He's horribly ill with the Red Plague.

"And now?" he asks, his voice weak and raspy.

I run my hand over his clammy forehead, paying no mind to the slightly receding hairline, "Even now."

I pull his head to my chest and run my hands over his emaciated spine, my fingers tracing each dramatic ripple before the skin begins to plump up under my touch. Lean muscle starts to fill my hands and the frail form in my arms starts to fill out. When I look down at him, his hair sweeps back in a dramatic wave, as if it's been sculpted by the wind. As Lucio lifts his gaze to me, I'm still met with silver eyes encompassed by red sclera, but they're accented with black eyeliner and red shadow. A massive golden arm wraps around my waist as pointed metal finger tips scrape and prick at my sides. Lucio straightens and white garments, red silks, and fine furs slip over his body. I recognize it as the gaudy attire he donned at his grand return to the palace.

He places his hands on his hips and shoots me a snide grin, "How about now?"

I quirk a brow at him and ponder. Is this the Lucio that would throw a tantrum if someone smudged his pristine outfit?

Looking around, I manage to spot a small patch of dirt just outside the perimeter of town square. I lift a finger, begging him to wait a moment, and cross the square to where the dirt was. I fill my hands with the powdery substance and take it back over to Lucio. He eyes it curiously before looking at me.

Before he can get a word in, I fling the dirt across his front, leaving behind a spectacle of a stain all over his clothes. A rather ungraceful smudge is smeared across his left cheek.

"GAH!" he sputters, trying rather pointlessly to brush the dirt off, "What was that for?!"

"Just wanted to see how you'd react." I reply cheekily.

Lucio stares in bewilderment, looking from me to the stain, then back to me. Then, out of nowhere, he smirks then barks out a laugh. He makes a slight effort to stop himself, balling up a fist and raising it to his mouth, but it's no use. Gradually, he starts chuckling, which turns into amused laughter. It sounds almost childlike; light and happy, almost as if he's  _enjoying_ the sight of his ruined clothes.

"Well, aren't I a sight!" he giggles, letting his hands drop to his sides in acceptance. Once he's collected himself, his eyes focus back on me, a fond smile spreading across his face, and I find myself smiling back. His image warps, and I'm left facing Lucio as I know him now; long, messy blond hair, slightly sunburnt skin, and tattered clothes, "Even now, huh?"

I nod, " _Especially_  now."

Lucio's smile doesn't waver, even as his image fades away in a whisp of smoke. The shadowy buildings closing in on the town square until my vision goes dark. It's only silent for a moment longer before the steady patter of rain fills my ears, followed by a clap of thunder that jolts me out of my sleep. I'm still in the cave, still wrapped up in the tiger pelt, still wet, and still alone. Whatever sun that managed to provide some light to the island is now gone. The stormy night casts everything in an inky darkness that's only broken by the occasional flash of lightning. I must have slept for at least four or five hours for it to be this dark.

I summon a ball of light to the palm of my hand as I creep towards the mouth of the cave. I pour enough power into it to light up the campsite. Lucio is nowhere in sight. That's odd. We left in the morning. He should be back by now. Dread begins to coil in my gut at the possibilities as to why he hasn't come back yet. It takes everything in me to not go bolting out into the pouring rain to search for him, and I start to pace as I think of what I should do.

Just as I'm about to start worrying myself into a panic, something pulls at me from one of the carvings on the walls. My stomach flips when I realize that the pull is coming from the carving of the goat; the Devil. It glows an angry shade of red, unlike the others that glow in varying hues of blue, green, yellow, and violet. I stay rooted to the spot where I stand. Was it going to tell me something about Lucio, or would it be the Devil there waiting to give me a piece of his mind again?

Cautiously, I approach the carving and slide my hand over its details. At first, it feels hot, pulsing with the heat from the Devil's realm. Then it gradually cools until it matches the temperature of the inside of the cave. My ears roar with the sound of rain overlapping with the rain coming down outside of the mouth of the cave. For about a minute, there's nothing but the sound of the storm coming through the darkness. Maybe he had too much to carry back and decided to wait out the storm someplace that was dry. I most certainly wouldn't have blamed him.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning lights up my vision, and I have the briefest of moments to process the vision the carving is sending to me. A large fallen tree lies in the middle of a muddy path. I make out a hand trying to push it, presumably to move it out of the way. Another bolt of lightning a few seconds later allows me to take in the entire scene, and my heart stops.

Lucio is lying in the middle of the path, covered in mud. His face is twisted in a combination of frustration, agony, and exhaustion. He's using the upper half of his body to try to move the tree, which is crushing his legs. The tree budges slightly, but only succeeds in sitting heavier atop Lucio's legs. He cries out in pain, and that's all I can bare to see before I find myself bolting out of the cave and into the storm once more.


	12. Chapter 12: The Connection

My feet struggle to find purchase along the muddy trails that snake throughout the island as I search for Lucio. The forest had turned pitch black with the continuation of the storm, my only sources of light being the glowing orb in one of my hands and the occasional flash of lightning. I look to the trees and glance at the foliage, trying to find a landmark or something that bore any sort of resemblance to anything I saw in my vision. However, my thoughts are racing, and the only thing I'm able to remember clear as day is Lucio's pain-filled expressions as he frantically tried to get himself out from under that tree.

The storm must have wreaked absolute havoc on this half of the island. It seemed everywhere I looked there was another tree down. Some of the paths that sloped downhill had been turned into narrow, muddy streams. Broken branches litter the ground. Time and time again I think I find I've found the tree that Lucio is pinned under, only to discover that it's just another that the wind had managed to topple over.

I run until my lungs burn and I'm gasping for breath. Mud thoroughly covers my legs all the way up to my knees. My shoes make a wet squelching noise with each step I take as I find a spot to catch my breath. I'm shaking uncontrollably, cold and scared that there might be no saving Lucio this time; that I might be on my own out here when this storm ends and the day breaks. I look around, trying to find something familiar in the scenery out here that can at least guide me to East Camp. Much like the journey from there, however, everything looks the same and I feel like I'm going in circles.

I find a seat on a nearby boulder and hold my head in my hands. This situation almost reminds me of the first time I got separated from Asra in the marketplace, lost amongst the winding streets and the maze of people and street vendors. I was so scared, I couldn't think, and my inability to speak in full sentences at the time made it hard to tell concerned passersby what was wrong. When Asra finally found me and got me calmed down, he taught me a valuable lesson.

"If you're ever lost and can't find your way, look for what is familiar, or reach out with your magic until you find whatever it is you seek."

Option A was out. Everything here looked familiar, yet so different there was no way to be sure I was on the right path. But I had a goal; a single thing I was looking for that was more important to me right now than anything else. Lucio. I  _had_  to find him!

I extend my magic far beyond the trees. This wasn't going to be like when Julian and I hunted down Muriel in our quest to find the answers to Lucio's so-called murder. I didn't have any personal possessions of his that could guide me, but I did have something. His heart, his love, his trust, and he had mine; two ends of a binding thread that couldn't be severed by some freak tropical storm. My magic need only find Lucio's end of that thread for me to be able to follow it.

It feels like my magic has extended five times around the world before it stops. The other end is silent, creating an endless trail that seems to lead to nowhere. There's no pull, not even a tug on the other end. The connection feels limp like a waiting fishing lure, making me fear the worst. Lucio may not be good at magic, but there should be at least some kind of energy in him that's able to send a signal back, but all I sense is an empty void. My magic most likely found Lucio, but the weak connection could mean that he's either unconscious, dead, or simply too weak for me to get a response.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a massive tug on the other end. It's so strong it almost makes me physically lurch forward. I break into a sprint, hauled through the trees by the pull. It makes a bee line through the trees, taking me on and off trails repeatedly, sending me up and down various slopes and clambering over boulders until a familiar cry rises over roar of the pouring rain.

" _Akari_!"

The voice is strained, as if it'd been calling out to me for hours.

"Lucio?" I call back, my magic tugging with the response.

Another aggressive yank answers the other end of my magic, and my name is cried out again, growing closer and closer with every step.

And then I see it. Just beyond the reach of my light is another fallen tree. It doesn't look massive, but it seems more than heavy enough to trap a man under its weight. Without thinking, I leap over it, and nearly crush the mud-caked, writhing form lying just on the other side. Lucio.

I kneel down beside him and shine my light over the area. Just like in my vision, Lucio's legs are pinned beneath the trunk of the tree. They look almost as if they've been sucked into the ground. The area he lays in has become a massive muddy pit, matting his hair and clothes. Long claw marks are scattered around him from his attempts to pull himself out.

Lucio's hand comes to rest on my lap as he looks up at me in shock and relief. His mouth opens to say something, but his chattering teeth and shivering body only allow him to choke out a slight croak. I suppress a squeak and try to refrain from wiggling hopelessly as his hand moves to press against my back. He's freezing cold.

I throw my arms around him, relieved that he's at least still alive.

"Y-your h-here!" he manages to stutter out, "Y-you f-f-found me!"

I nod, pressing light kisses against his temple before looking back towards the tree. It's difficult to tell if the tree has broken one or both of Lucio's legs, or if the ground was just soft enough to prevent that. Either way, it was going to take lifting the tree up and off of him to find out just how much damage has been done. Lucio already looks and sounds weak from trying to free himself in this weather. He'll catch his death out here if we wait much longer.

"Can you move?" I ask, "I'm going to try lifting that tree off of your legs. I need you to try crawling out when I do."

The expression that crosses Lucio's face makes me think I had just asked him to sprint to the other end of the island. It's only then that I take note of the lack of water containers on him, meaning the tree must have fallen on him shortly after we split up, and that he'd most likely been trying to free himself all day! Regardless, he puts up a determined front and nods.

My hands slip through the mud until I manage to get them completely underneath the tree. My feet sink deep down into the mushy earth until they find purchase. Lucio twists his torso around, getting his hand under him as he prepares to crawl. Even as I stand there ready to lift, I can feel the weight of the tree. It's completely solid and ungodly heavy. What I'd give to have Muriel beside me right now, but I knew I could move it. Even if it would take everything I had.

"On the count of three," I call out, "One, two, three!"

I lift up with all my might. It takes everything in my legs, back, arms, and shoulders, but I manage to heave the tree's trunk up a couple of feet from where it fell. In my peripheral vision I see Lucio move, whimpering in pain as he writhes through the mud out from under the tree like an eel. I hold my stance until I'm sure he's far enough away before letting it drop with a wet thud.

I'm back at Lucio's side in seconds, looking him over with concern as he lies there, trying to gain his bearings. He makes no move to get up. It seems he can't even bend his legs without wincing or yelping, especially whenever he moves his right leg. I summon the light back to my palm to assess the damage, but there's so much mud covering him that it makes finding any injuries or potentially broken bones impossible. The only thing easing my nerves at the moment is that there doesn't appear to be any blood.

Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, I hoist Lucio up and manage to get him to his feet. He stands, but can barely bare to put pressure on his right leg, and I wind up supporting him as we make the exhausting journey back to West Camp.


	13. Chapter 13: The Crew

The storm finally passes shortly before dawn. Droplets of water dance in the foliage as the sun takes to the sky. As the air starts to heat up, a heavy mist settles between trees. It isn't long before the forest is alive with the twittering of birds and the hum of insects. Outside the cave, everything in peaceful.

Inside the cave, however, Lucio and I wage war against the chill of the smooth slate walls. I've been working throughout the night since we returned, drying out wood and struggling to get a fire going. Beside me, Lucio lays cocooned in the tiger's pelt, shivering helplessly against the cold. He has a nasty cough, and his skin burns with a terrible fever. Without heavy blankets to cover us, towels to dry us off, or spare outfits we can change into, we're both forced to suffer in our rain-soaked clothes from last night.

The sun peeks over the trees by the time I finally get the fire started. I'd managed to find an old metal bucket that had washed up on shore in the storm. With a few stray twigs and tree branches, I manage to suspend it over the fire, heating the water it's able to hold. I remove it before the water has a chance to start boiling and I tear off a long strip of fabric off one of my sleeves to let it soak.

In gentle strokes, I begin wiping the mud from Lucio's injured legs to assess the damage. While I find very little blood and few nasty scrapes, bruises darken the skin along his hips, thighs, and shins. His right leg looks particularly beat up. Every time his legs bend at the knee, he'll suck in a hiss or let out a yelp. If there are any fractured bones, they don't outwardly show, but I know I don't have the energy in me to heal his injuries again. At the very least, he can expect to be tender for the next several days.

I sponge away all the mud I can from the exposed parts of his body, paying extra attention to any wounds to avoid infection. Lucio watches me tiredly as I wipe the grime from his face, exposing the sickly pale skin underneath. While the rain had managed to wash most of the mud from his hair, it's still tinged an earthy brown. There won't be much I can do about that until late afternoon, when the sun has warmed up the shallows beside the campsite.

"I felt it, you know?"

Lucio's voice is a soft rasp against the air of the cave, just barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

I quirk a brow in confusion, "Felt what?"

"Your magic. Out in the forest, when you were looking for me. I felt it. It was like... like you were holding out your hands, feeling around in the dark for me."

I can't suppress the chuckle that escapes my lips as they break into a flattered smile, "That basically what I was doing."

Lucio laughs weakly before his face falls with a thought, "I thought I knew... I thought I understood magic. I knew Asra's. I could detect it, but last night... I think I finally came to terms with the knowledge that I know next to nothing about magic."

"Well... you aren't a  _magician_  by any means, but you  _have_ met an arcana, and you held up pretty well when you confronted us last year while we were between realms. It's a shaky foundation to build skill on, but it's not  _nothing_."

Lucio shudders slightly, but the laugh still lingers in his voice.

"I never want to meet that arcana again. Screw that!"

I bark out a laugh, "Well, then which card would you associate yourself with, if you had to choose?"

Lucio rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. I can tell he's flipping through the cards in his mind, trying to picture their faces and recall their meanings. Remembering the meanings of all the cards, both upright and reversed, even with just the twenty two of the major arcana, can be tricky, even for the most experienced fortune tellers. I know I still struggled with a couple of them in my readings here and there, even when my mind is clear.

"The Chariot?"

The Chariot; determination, willpower, victory, self-confidence. I can see Lucio holding some of these qualities, especially with all of the things he's managed to accomplish out here on his own. But it doesn't seem  _quite_  right, like a shoe that's just a bit too small.

Just in case, I look over to the wall of carvings. I rest my hand over the image of a cheetah; the face of The Chariot in Asra's tarot deck. My mind is bombarded with a cacophony of barbaric whooping and the clashing of weapons. I see a flash of blonde hair and piercing silver eyes, but they belong to a stern-looking woman clad in leather and furs. She radiates determination and willpower, so much that Lucio's accomplishments are eclipsed by her in comparison. I shake my head. Nope, definitely not The Chariot.

"The Tower, then?"

The Tower; revelation. Finding a truth that brings enlightment. Breaking beliefs that were built on falsehoods. Perhaps. I manage to find a carving that bears resemblance to the stag pictured in The Tower in Asra's deck, and I begin tracing its lines with my fingers. I hear the snap of metal claws and a delighted hiss as I find myself staring into Vulgora's bloodthirsty gaze. I shake my head again. Oh hell, no!

I glance back at Lucio to see if he has any other patron suggestions. He purses his lips as his eyes slip closed once more. I can tell that this little exercise is wearing on his patience and his alertness. He looks as though he could pass out right there.

"...Judgement?"

I smile a little at the mention of the card. Judgement is Nazali's patron; self-evaluation, personal growth, accepting and taking responsibility for past decisions and mistakes, redemption. Reviving parts of yourself that have been forgotten, buried, or neglected. It most certainly wasn't a bad card for Lucio to identify with. In fact, it was almost perfect...  _Almost_.

My mind wanders back to a conversation I once had with Asra. Some time ago, Lucio chose the Devil as his patron, identifying with everything he represented. I immediately think about what he had said about Death's card, and how Lucio would have liked it if he only understood what it meant. If only I had the full deck.

I move back to Lucio's side and smooth a lock of hair out of his face. The heat burning along his cheeks and forehead is more intense than ever.

"You're burning up," I say softly. I rinse the cloth in the bucket and let it sit out until it's cool to the touch before laying it across his forehead, "We can figure it out when you're better. Rest now."

Lucio doesn't put up a fight as his eyes slip closed again, letting out a soft noise as he tries to relax. I adjust the furs until they cover him from his chin to his toes.

Suddenly, a noise rises from the mouth of the cave. It almost sounds like the hissing of a beetle, or some other territorial insect, but the sound is lower and rougher than any I had heard before.

I follow the sound outside of the cave to a nearby berry bush. There, snagged in the winding, thorny tendrils with its back facing me, is another card from Asra's tarot deck. I snatch it eagerly from the bush's grasp and turn it over in my hand. Lo and behold, the card is none other than Death.

The equine skull seems to grin wearily at me, almost as if to say, "Finally, I found you!"

I carry the card back into the cave, holding it close to me, ready to tuck it away with the other recovered cards, when the carving of the horse on the wall grabs my attention. I don't need to run my fingers over the image to know the individual that has Death at their patron. My mind is brought back to last year's masquerade the moment my eyes fall on the face of the card. It's nearly a mirror image of the macabre mask that Julian and I saw shortly before we were separated from our bodies.

Valdemar.

My mind tries to wrap around the concept. The Death card was all about change and new beginnings, transformation and rebirth. Valdemar's only focus appeared to be on physical death. It radiated from them in an unnerving miasma that disturbed anyone that was around them, whether they knew them or not.

And that's when I knew. Valdemar wasn't worthy of having Death as their patron. Lucio  _was_ , and I was more than happy to help him butt that creep out of their spot.

Carefully, as to not disturb his rest, I place the card beside Lucio's sleeping form. A strange energy fills the air. It's tense, yet electrifying, like an apprentice meeting his master for the first time, and I begin to wonder. Would Lucio meet Death? Would it be like how Nadia's connection was with the High Priestess, meeting in secluded slumber? Time would only tell, but I hoped Lucio would come to see Death as an arcana that shouldn't be looked upon with fear, but in anticipation for the new beginnings and transformations to come.

While I let Lucio sleep, I turn my focus to my growling stomach. Neither of us had eaten yesterday, and I wasn't up for another meal of various fruits. And Lucio, he was definitely going to need more than just berries or roots in his current state. He needed real food; something that would sustain him better and help him get well again.

The first thing that comes to me is soup, recalling the thousands upon thousands of different soups Mazelinka would make in Vesuvia and aboard the ship. Finding the various herbs and ingredients used in her folk remedies wasn't likely out here, but I'm sure catching a few morsels for some soup was more than possible.

Determined, I grab a spear and take to the rocks just beyond the shoreline. The shallows are alive with marine life after the storm. I spot numerous clams peppering the sand. Small fish flee as my shadow passes over them. A few crayfish back away from me in a hurry, eyeing me cautiously as I move from rock to rock. They weren't enough. I needed to find something bigger that would sustain both Lucio and myself.

A shadow moving through the water just a few feet out catches my eye. It moves like a fish, but its movements were slower and more ridged. A triangular fin breeches the surface of the water, giving off a sandy texture as the sunlight hits it. A shark; not huge, it was probably three quarters my height and looked like it had enough meat on it for a few meals.

I raise the spear in my hands, ready to thrust as the shark approaches, but I think twice on it. Its hide looked thick and its head looked dense. Even if it came right up to where I was standing, I wasn't sure I'd have the strength in my attack to pierce its flesh. Even then, the creature was bound to fight and thrash the moment I stabbed it. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to handle something that size.

Looking down at my spear, I get an idea. I focus my magic, directing it into the weapon until it lifts from my fingers. I aim for the shark, letting the magic build behind it. Standing perfectly still, I wait until I can see the shark's round black eyes. There's no way I can miss now.

I close my fist, and the magic snaps, launching the spear like a harpoon into the water. There's a splash and a muffled crunch. The force of the attack buries the spear through the shark's shovel-shaped head and into the sand, causing the protruding butt of the spear to wiggle as the creature trashes in a panic. I feel sad as I watch it die, but the dread I feel at the thought of trying to make soup out of the bite-sized morsels around the shallows, or worse, going hungry all together, greatly outweighs my qualms about killing the shark.

I wait until it stops moving before hoisting it up out of the water. It's a leopard shark, captivating with the black spots that pattern it's grey, sandpaper hide. The shark appears to be well-fed; fat on its rich diet of crabs and small fish.

Just as I'm about to haul my catch to shore, a voice calls out to me from the water below my feet. I look down in time to see Asra's image take form in the water. He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses as his eyes land on the tip of my spear.

"Is... that a shark?" he inquires.

"It's dinner, now," I respond.

Asra smiles cheekily, "Well, look at you being all self-sufficient! Though you look a little more worse for wear since I last saw you. What happened?"

"We got caught in another storm yesterday. It was pretty bad."

"Where's Lucio?"

The expression on my face betrays my thoughts as I frown with worry. Concern flickers across Asra's features as he watches me. I tell him about how I found Lucio pinned under the tree, sunk into the mud, possibly lying like that for the entire day while I gathered fresh water on the opposite side of the island.

"He's resting now," I explain, "He's sick and has a terrible fever, and I'm still not sure just how badly damaged his legs are. I was going to attempt to make some soup, or at least give us a filling meal to give us energy."

"Hence the shark?" Asra pipes up.

"Hence the shark."

Asra nods before his attention veers to his side, "Oh, boy..."

"What is it?"

"I don't have a lot of time. I contacted you to let you know that-"

"MOVE OVER!"

I'm not given a lot of time to process what exactly happened, but in the blink of an eye, Asra is suddenly bowled over by a flash of auburn. A bush of fiery curls bounces in the sun and I'm greeted by a pair of beaming blue eyes. My entire being lights up as I'm greeted by a familiar freckled face.

"Portia!"

Three more figures join the bubbly red-head's side; Nazali, Mazelinka, and Julian. I am beside myself with joy to see them all together and completely all right.

"We've been so worried about you!" Portia screeches, "Are you all right? Where are you? Do you have enough food? Water? Shelter? Shade? Oh my god, you look like you've been dragged through Hell and back!"

"Slow down, Pasha!" Julian calls out from behind her, "You're turning blue. Breathe for goodness sake!"

"I'll breathe when I'm dead, Ilya!" Portia eventually does take a moment to take a deep breath and collect herself, "So how have you been?"

I sigh, trying to regroup from her onslaught of questions, "I've been alright."

"You gave us quite the scare there, Akari!" Mazelinka scolds, waving her wooden soup spoon at me, " _This one_ here, especially, hasn't slept a wink since you were swept overboard; keeping us up all night with his pacing!"

She slaps Julian between the eyes with her spoon, drawing a wince and a slight blush.

"I was worried, alright?" he groans, "We didn't know if you were even alive for three whole days!"

I take a seat on the rock I'm standing on, setting my catch beside me as I take a moment to look all of them over. They're completely unharmed and beaming with joyful smiles on their faces.

"We've heard quite a few stories from Asra," Nazali pipes up, "I hear you found Lucio."

"Yeah!" Portia chimes in, "Where's that narcissistic bastard at? I wanna give him a piece of my mind!"

"He's sick-"

"Pffffft! We all knew that!"

"No, I mean he's  _sick_. The island hasn't exactly been kind to us out here."

Portia's face twist in confusion, "'Us' as in you've been sticking together?"

My eyes roll so hard I almost think they've gotten stuck. I give the crew basically the same explanation I gave Asra, with the inclusion of everything that's transpired over the past couple of days, and the exclusion of the more intimate things Lucio and I have done in the meantime. By this point, Asra's recovered from Portia's body slam and rejoined the others. They cling to my stories with piqued interest. Asra and Nazali have hopeful looks on their faces, while Portia and Mazelinka carry more skeptical expressions. Julian's expression is almost unreadable, but I can see a hint of sadness in his eyes. Does he know? Could Asra have told him about the kiss? God, I hope not. He didn't deserve to hear about it like that.

"Well, you just tell that goat boy to mind himself!" Mazelinka says sternly.

"Yeah!" Portia pipes up, "If he so much as hurts a single hair on your head, he'll have to deal with me!"

I chuckle lightly, "I'm more worried about him hurting himself at this rate. Mauled by a tiger, crushed by a tree, and now he's sick? I'm gonna have to start strapping pillows to his body."

Portia lets out a laugh before she stands up, "Well, we gotta get going. Still got a ton of supplies we gotta get before we head out. Do you want us to bring you anything? Anything at all?"

The growl in my stomach brings about a familiar craving.

"Some pumpkin bread would be nice," I say, "And maybe a few changes of clothes."

"You got it! Hang tight. We'll be getting you off that island before you know it!"

With that, Portia skips off with Mazelinka and Nazali trailing behind her. Julian, on the other hand, hangs back and situates himself where she was sat. The sadness in his eyes deepens as he bites his lip, trying to think up exactly what he should say.

"I'm glad you're all right," I state, hoping to at least give him somewhere to start.

Julian straightens wringing his hands nervously, "Same here. Uh, that is, I'm glad you're all right, too. But, uh... we need to talk."

I let out a sigh, "Ah, I knew I sensed another talk coming."

Julian shifts nervously, likely remembering just how irritated I was at him the last time we saw each other. His gaze shifts to his lap as he twiddles his fingers. Anxiety radiates off of him in massive waves.

"I... I've been thinking about it for a while," he starts, "Words cannot describe how deeply I care for you, but we can't keep fighting like we have been."

"I agree."

"I don't know about you, but I... I wanted to take some time when we got back to Vesuvia to, uh, think things over. Re-evaluate our relationship, you know?"

I respond with a curt nod, "I was thinking the same thing."

"Oh! Really? Okay, um, and what were you thinking?"

I turn to him. I didn't want him to know that I had already come to a decision, that my mind was already made up, and that I had already moved on with none other than one person he hated more than anyone. Though it was erratic trying to survive on this island, Lucio and I had grown incredibly fond of each other, a sight that I'm sure would break Julian's heart.

"What were  _you_  thinking?" I counter.

Julian purses his lips and scratches the back of his head, "You know hearing my ideas first never got anyone very far, right? That's... kind of why I was asking you. You've always known best, so whatever you think is good for you, for  _us_ , I think I'm okay with."

I'm silent for a long moment before I give in. I can't put anything off, or give Julian any false hope to cling to, and knowing him he'd cling to it for dear life.

"I think it'd be better for both of us if we continued on as friends."

A few emotions cross Julian's face at once. At first his eyes widen in surprise before his face falls like a hurt puppy. Then he takes a deep breath and straightens, "I agree."

"Julian, you don't have to agree with-"

"No, no, no, I mean I've been thinking the same. I just... I was kind of secretly hoping you'd say something different. But, I mean, that's okay. We're cool... Um, we  _are_  cool, right? No hard feelings?"

I smile and shake my head, "No hard feelings, but you should probably talk to Asra about his  _tarot cards_  sometime."

On cue, Asra's fluffy head pops up into view, "My tarot cards? What about them?"

I can see the panic fill Julian's features as he tries backing away while Asra stands toe to toe with him. As their image fades into the ripples of the water, I hear the start of what feels like is going to be a  _loooooong_  lecture from Asra. I send a small, sarcastic prayer of luck towards Julian as I pick up my spear and my catch, and return to camp.


	14. Chapter 14: The Patron

The contents of the soup boil rapidly as it sits over the fire, filling the cave with the savory smell of seafood. The meat of the shark resembles that of cooked chicken and smells divine. I was sure it'd taste a bit bland, due to the lack of spices and limited ingredients, but after watching him eat a fish practically  _whole_  with gusto, I figured Lucio most likely wouldn't mind.

Lucio sleeps relatively soundly as I cook our meal. He starts sweating out his fever by mid-afternoon, and I wake him up periodically to drink so he stays hydrated. Even when he's conscious, though, he's barely aware. His eyes hardly open, and if he can find it in himself to speak, it usually comes out as a murmur I can barely understand. It's typically just my name he chooses to say, likely seeking out some sort of confirmation that I'm still there.

By the time the soup is finished and I've eaten all my stomach can hold, the carcass of the shark is little more than a third of its skeleton, drug a good ways out from the campsite to spare us from the smell. The bucket I have set over the fire is almost filled to the brim. I manage to find a coconut that was dislodged from its tree during the storm and split it, fashioning a bowl to serve to Lucio. The soup may taste odd, riddled with the bits of coconut meat that I hadn't managed to scrape off, but it was better than nothing.

I ladle out a portion with the shell and place it beside me as I move to wake up Lucio once more. Concern overtakes me when I notice that he appears paler than ever. The sweat that was beading along his brow earlier is now gone. He lies completely still, and I feel a freezing pain tighten against my spine when I realize that he doesn't appear to be breathing. Forgetting the soup, I rest my hand over the one he has draped over his chest, and my heart drops. It's as cold as marble. Frantic, I check his pulse, feeling dread creep through my being when I'm unable to find one.

Fighting to keep myself from panicking, my eyes find their way to the Death card, still lying at Lucio's side where I had placed it. I pick it up, staring into the card's grinning face and sideways glance. It almost feels like it's mocking me.

"Did you take him?" I ask, gazing deep into the single crimson drop in the card's hollow eye.

My mind finds a single moment of clarity, all the time that's needed before a voice answers, one that I remember hearing coming from a certain seal point Siamese cat while I was with Julian; a voice that doesn't speak in any human tongue, but I'm still able to understand.

_No._

No. That's all that Death bothers to say, leaving a chill dancing across my shoulders as it fades from my mind. No, Death hasn't taken him, meaning that, in some form or another, Lucio still lives.

I clasp his hand between my own, pressing kisses against his balmy knuckles as I fight down the worry building in my mind, making tears cloud my vision. I cup his face, letting my thumb trace the sharp line of his jaw and pet his hair.

"You're all right..." I whisper, saying it more to myself than to Lucio, "You're all right..."

Just as my tears start trailing down my face, Lucio's brows knit together and a soft moan drones from his slightly parted lips. His throat bobs as he swallows dryly before he lets out a cough. His eyes flutter open and focus on me. Warmth blossoms under his skin, feverish, and dew drops of sweat dance across the lines of his face once more.

"Akari?"

I pull Lucio into my arms before he's able to say much more. The sigh of relief that escapes me sounds more like a loud, frustrated groan as I bury my face into the crook of his neck.

"You son of a bitch, you had me worried sick!" I all but yell against him, "I thought you were dead!"

I feel Lucio flounder in my grasp, trying to find some semblance of balance while still minding his injured legs. His arm wraps around me, allowing him to stable himself as he clutches my shoulder before reclining back in my arms.

"Akari, look at me," Lucio's voice is still soft, but it feels like it's more due to grogginess than sickness. I lift my head, and his hand gently brushes the tears from my face, "I'm fine... Still sick and tender, but fine."

I dry my tears the best I can before handing Lucio his bowl of soup. He eyes the contents curiously before drawing the coconut shell to his lips and taking a small sip. Before I know it, he drains the broth and begins sampling the pieces of flesh left behind. I discovered that shark has a peculiar taste. Almost like chicken, but mild and slightly pungent, but Lucio doesn't seem to mind he downs one piece after another. He goes through three more bowls before he's fully satisfied.

"You really did have me worried, though," I pipe up as Lucio settles back down under the pelt, "What happened? I feel like there's something you're not telling me."

Lucio's eyes avert my gaze. His brows knit with concern, and I sense just the slightest bout of fear wash over him.

"You know how we were discussing a patron earlier?" he inquires, "Which I would choose if I were given the choice?"

I nod, "I remember."

"What if I told you a patron chose  _me_?"

I perk up with interest. It most certainly wasn't unheard of, though from what I knew the arcana had little interest in human business unless it involved a human that was capable of one-on-one communication with them. Asra had a strong connection with the Magician, Nadia the High Priestess, and Julian the Hanged Man. The only arcana to have ever taken an interest in Lucio was the Devil, and he was to remain bound to his realm for the next thousand to ten thousand years. There was no way the Devil had managed communication with him. Who could possibly have taken such a keen interest in Lucio so soon?

It's then that my gaze finds its way to the tarot card that's still lying nearby; Death. I pick it up and dust some of the sand off before turning its face to Lucio. He stares at it silently for some time before he manages to sit up and take it from my fingers.

"Death..." the name of the card slips from his mouth like a toll from a bell tower. I can tell what he's thinking, that the card's appearance to him is a bad omen. That it means literal death.

I place a hand over the face of the card, blocking the image from Lucio's sight.

"Whatever you're thinking, it's not what Death means," I explain, "It signifies a new chapter in one's life; change, transformation, rebirth. While one door closes behind you, another is opening. It's the beginning of a new journey in your life."

I remove my hand, letting Lucio study the card with this newfound revelation. A half smile graces his lips before he sets it down.

"Funny. He said the exact same thing."

My interest peaks, "You mean you've spoken with Death?"

Lucio nods, "It was shortly after you told me to get some rest. My mind went blank, and then I was standing in a realm that was dark and cold."

No wonder he felt so cold and lifeless when I went to give him his soup. Death's realm is as cold as winter and always cast in the dark of night. His cold, pale skin could have been a reflection of how cold he felt in that realm.

"He stood there, leaning against a tree, like he was waiting for me," Lucio continues, "I didn't know what to think, at first. I tried running, but no matter how far or how fast I ran, he was still there. When I finally came to the realization that I couldn't run, I faced him, ready for whatever it was he wanted of me."

Lucio pauses to adjust his position. It still looked as though his legs were causing him a great deal of pain, but he seemed to move a bit easier, if only just a little.

"What happened next?" I ask, spreading out beside him.

He lets out a nervous chuckle, "He was a little mad, at first. He's still holding a grudge against me and the Devil for how weak he used to be."

I let out a laugh. Seeing Death take the form of Portia's cat Pepi was the closest I had ever come to truly seeing him face to face. He was hospitable, trying his best to make Julian and I comfortable while in his presence, albeit with a few failed attempts thrown in. After all the trouble Lucio and the Devil had caused, I can imagine Death revoking some of these comforts out spite, if not out of hatred while he communicated with him.

"Death offered me a second chance," Lucio says, "He said that I'd have a stronger connection with him than he does with Valdemar, and after everything that happened with them... All the deals Valdemar made with the Devil, well... Let's just say Death didn't take kindly to them referring to his realm as their own."

"So what did you do?"

"I accepted, of course. Now that I know what Death means, I find that I'm less afraid of it."

I sit up and smile down at Lucio, taking his hand in mine. Why the hell he ever wanted to have the Devil as his patron to begin with, I'll never know. They most certainly weren't all that alike. If anything  _Valdemar_  was deserving of having the Devil of his patron, not Lucio.

The fact that he had already come to accept Death instead of fearing him meant that Lucio had already taken a step in the right direction.

"Then Death was right. You  _are_  worthy of having him as your patron."


	15. Chapter 15: The Traveler

In the passing days, life becomes a little more peaceful on the island. No tiger attacks, no storms, no getting crushed by trees. The days are sunny with pleasant breezes rolling through, and the nights are mild and still.

Day by day, Lucio starts feeling better and his legs gradually heal. Little by little he goes back to tending to his usual tasks around the island, hunting, fishing, and harvesting fruit for us to eat. The bruises are still prominent, and he walks with a slight limp in his right leg, but there doesn't seem to be any long-lasting damage done by the tree that fell on him. The injury left behind from the tiger attack has finally healed, leaving behind a long ragged scar in its wake. With a stroke of luck, he'll avoid getting injured again until Mazelinka's ship arrives.

Asra made contact two days ago, filling us in on the crew's progress with stocking supplies and jotting down any last minute requests to give to them. The crew was scheduled to set sail later today, and, according to Asra, would have a welcoming party there to greet me once they arrived. We expected the ship to arrive on the island sometime within the next two weeks. Sooner, if the wind favored them.

Since reconciling with Lucio, communication between him and Asra has been much more civil, if not playful with almost the same jests, drama, and theatrics that Julian and I would display from time to time. I was happy to see the two of them finally getting along. But even so, there was an elephant in the room that the three of us couldn't ignore: what was going to be done about Lucio once the ship arrived? Given that he was allowed aboard the ship at all, he very well couldn't come back with me to Vesuvia. Nadia's orders were perfectly clear. If she saw him again, she'd probably kill him.

We tried brainstorming places Lucio could probably go. Prakra and Navivon were brought up in discussion a couple of times. Hardly anybody knew Lucio in Prakra, save for Nadia's sisters, though who knows what would happen to him if he took up residence in their homeland. Nahara was especially likely to put him through a brick wall after the chaos he brought upon the masquerade. Navivon was even further away, so far off that very few even knew the ex-Count by name.

No matter how many places we thought up, however, none of them felt far away enough from Vesuvia for Lucio to feel safe. He even mentioned that he was content with being left behind on the island, continuing to live as he had been for the past year.  _He_  may have been content with that, but me? I couldn't bear the thought! Alone on the massive island by himself? It's not like I would be able to just swing by whenever I pleased. It was taking Mazelinka's crew days to prepare to set sail, and it'd take weeks of sailing and meticulous mapping and strategizing just to find the way here and back. There had to be another way; a way to get him off this island, and a place that he settle that was populated so he could live out a quiet, unassuming life.

For now, though, we focus on preparing for the ship's arrival. When I first awoke on the island, we were on the east side. More than likely, that would be the direction the ship would be coming from. We spend the morning packing our supplies and preparing for the long trek across the island to East Camp. There was still about ten containers of water left from what I had gathered during the storm. I figure it'll at least last us until we saw rain again.

I take some time before packing the last of our things to admire the carvings of the arcana on the walls of the cave. They seem to sing a fond farewell as their colors dance in rhythm to my aura. My eyes can't help but flick between two in particular; the horse and the goat, Death and the Devil. It wasn't that I doubted Lucio's claims that he met Death and had him as his patron now, but I was curious to see if Valdemar had truly been butted out of his spot, or if it was possibly being shared at this point. Since Lucio didn't meditate on the card or do anything in particular to strengthen the bond between him and his arcana, their connection was likely weak. And since death was  _all_ that Valdemar meditated on...

My body shivers at the thought.

I choose to let my fingers glide over the Devil's carving first. As usual the intense heat of the Devil's realm burns under my touch. I feel the oppressive energy of that place pressing on me like a weight, but I hear nothing. No screams or curses. I'm not presented with any images of Lucio going about his business. The only connection the Devil has to either of us is that maintained by the cards.

Hopeful, I move over to the carving of the horse and begin tracing its lines. I feel a cold chill rush beneath my hand, like it’s been pressed against solid ice. I see just the briefest glimpse of Death's long, equine face turn to grin at me before light breaks through his image. I hear the echo of the waves that crash against the shoreline. A pleasantly familiar face stands looking to the horizon, hand pressed against his hip in thought. My heart swells with pride. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.

Satisfied, I go back to preparing for our journey back to East Camp. I tuck the recovered tarot cards into my trouser pocket and gather the tiger pelt from the small crater in the corner of the cave Lucio and I have come to call a bed. He insisted we bring it, just in case the nights get cold again. The only thing I can think to grab is the metal bucket we've grown accustomed to cooking our meals in. There. I think that's everything.

I toss one last glace to the carvings as I make my way towards the mouth of the cave, watching each of their mystical lights fade behind me with a twinge of sadness weighing on my chest. If it weren't so remote, perhaps just a few miles out from civilization, I wouldn't mind staying in a place like this. Then again, I  _did_  miss the luxury of sleeping in an  _actual_  bed, with blankets and pillows to sink into.

As I exit the cave, I find Lucio perched on one of the rocks out in the shallows. Just as I had seen through the carvings in the cave, he stands with his hand resting against his hip as he gazes out into the horizon. His matted hair flutters in the breeze, and he seems to be blissfully unaware that the sun has started to scorch his skin a light pink again.

I set our things down at the edge of the campsite and wade through knee-deep water until I make my way to his side.

"Ready when you are."

Lucio shoots me a smile before hopping down from his perch. His feet hit the water with a splash, and quickly move to steady him as his right leg causes him to stagger a bit. I suppress an exasperated sigh. I'm not sure how many times I've told him not to over-do it these past few days, but lately he seems more energetic and lively than ever, bouncing here, there, and everywhere all while his legs are in the process of healing. And now we're about to spend half a day hiking to the east side of the forest. If his legs were to break, all hell would break loose.

Together, Lucio and I gather our things and set off on the trail heading towards East Camp. Lucio uses his spear as a walking stick just in case his right leg started giving him problems. The ground is still relatively soft, and the butt of the spear makes small, circular pits next to our tracks as we move along.

"Do you think we'll have enough water to last us the next few days?" Lucio inquires.

"We should," I respond, hefting the containers I have wrapped in the tiger pelt over my shoulder. It clinks musically in response, "Why do you ask?"

"The air seems dryer than usual. I think we may be in for a draught."

I don't know what he's talking about. The air has been thick with humidity ever since the storm blew through. I'd be happy to go a few more days without having to deal with another, and I could go the rest of my life without going through what I've gone through with these past two storms, but a draught? Was there anything this island  _wasn't_ going to try to throw at us?

"How do you know for sure?" I ask.

"It happened around this time last year," Lucio explains, "I was just starting to get the hang of fending for myself out here when the rains stopped coming. It was like that for almost two weeks. I remember the air becoming a lot dryer than it had been just days before the draught hit."

"Well, you obviously survived. Did you just drink your water sparingly, or...?"

"Drank my water sparingly, drank coconut water, and I even resorted to drinking the blood of a wild pig at one point, if that tells you anything."

I bark out a laugh, "You tell stories almost as good as Julian!"

Lucio chuckles, "Yes, well, unlike Jules, my stories are  _completely_  factual."

"Suuuure they are..."

"They are!"

" _Suuuuuuure_ they are..."

We're teasing and laughing together for a time before we happen upon a familiar alcove. The two of us pause at the edge of the hollow, the memory of what we saw there all too fresh in our minds. Once again, something is pulling me there, an urgent voice telling me there's something that needs to be seen; something we missed the last time. And once again, my morbid curiosity and sense of adventure compels me to follow.

"Not this again..." I hear Lucio mutter under his breath, "Do we  _really_ have to go back down there?"

I find myself echoing the question in my head. We know what's down there; the animal carcasses, the rancid water, the poisonous foliage, and the corpse of a man that fell prey to its alluring charm. But still... we missed  _something_. That's all I do know.

"C'mon!" I say enthusiastically, "It'll be an adventure!"

Lucio smiles, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head, "When isn't it?"

Hand in hand, we slide back down the same slope we travelled down last time. Just as before, an avalanche of dread hits me the moment my feet level out. It still seems dark and dreary and suffocating. Bones still litter the ground in abundance, and the dark purple berries appear riper than ever.

Once again, the pull tugging at my mind leads me towards the hidden cave burrowing into one of the slops; the tomb of the lost traveler. I pull the vines aside and summon a light to one of my hands as we slip into the cave. The abandoned travel pack still stands erect a few feet from the entrance, and the skeletal human remains still lie where the traveler had breathed his last.

"What do you sense?" Lucio asks.

If I'm being honest, nothing. Nothing has changed since we were last here. It still feels like the pull is coming from the skeleton in the corner; a morbid warning that help might not be as close as one may hope. But I  _am_  curious.

The other day, Lucio confided in me that he wanted to learn magic, or at least  _try_. He wanted to gain a better understanding of it than he had when he was a count. Even if he wasn't able to measure up to my or Asra's abilities, all our magic would be different from each other in some way. Here and now was a good a time to start learning as any.

"What do  _you_  sense?" I counter.

Lucio shoots me a bewildered expression.

"You wanted to learn magic, right? Right here's a good place you can start. Clear your mind, and figure out where the pull is leading you. Find that sixth sense."

Lucio closes his eyes and focuses his breathing. Suddenly, if not for a moment, I feel his aura reaching out to something. It's a brilliant shade of orange, and emanates from him like the rays of a setting sun. Then, as quickly as it was there, it retreats.

"The pack," he says suddenly, "There's something in the travel pack."

Interesting. What could be in there, I wonder? Would it give us some clues about the traveler’s life? Would it provide us with supplies that we could use? Would it provide answers about this island as a whole? The possibilities were numerous.

I run my hand over the top of the travel pack, taking in the aged leather and weather-beaten fabric composing it. I begin my investigation by fiddling with the leather binds that secure an old woolen blanket to the top, and they give with a dry snap. The blanket unravels, throwing small plumes of dust into the air in its wake, but otherwise manages to remain intact.

"What do you think?" Lucio inquires as he takes the blanket in his hand, "We could use something like this."

"I don't know," I say, taking a glance to the bones lying just a few feet from us, "In some way, I feel like we would be stealing."

"Good point."

As he sets the blanket back down, I can't help but hear just the faintest whisper in my ear. It's unintelligible, sounding more like a weak, shuddering breath than words. It's there and gone again before I have a chance to make sense of it.

Moving on, I rummage through the side pockets of the travel pack and pull out a knife and a compass. The compass seems ancient, dating back a quite a few decades, at least; well before my time, that's for sure. I turn it between my fingers, only to find that the needle doesn't point north. It points to its owner, pointing firmly at the bones no matter where I go with the compass.

"Asra has something like this," I pipe up, "It's possible that this guy could have been a magician, as well."

Again, I hear a faint whisper in my ear. It's barely distinguishable, but I feel like I hear a single word carry within it.

_Yes_.

Lucio's eyes flick nervously around him, his hand hovering over the knife, "Did you hear something, Akari?"

"I don't think we're alone in our investigation. Why? You heard it too?"

"That creepy whisper? Yes."

Lucio examines the knife's blade with keen interest, testing its sharpness and scrutinizing its details with interest.

"This knife was made in Nopal," he comments, "Simple, light; could have been used for hunting or carving. Fighting, if you're bold enough. It appears to be about fifty years old. Maybe older. The style's consistent with the time period."

"How can you tell?"

Lucio swallows uneasily, "Well... I  _did_  spend a lot of time on the battlefield. Kind of picked up knowledge of basic weapons along the way."

I can tell the comment used to be something he'd boast about with immense pride, once upon a time. Now it seems he looks upon the knowledge with guilt and shame, and I'm brought back to when my friends and I faced Lucio down outside of the front gates to the Devil's realm; something that was said when he was searching for someone to be on his side once we had him trapped and unable to move. He had turned to Nazali.

_"You. I've never done anything to you, have I?"_

_"Not to me, personally. But you left behind a sea of bodies in your wake."_

Plague, war, execution; Lucio's history was drenched in the innocent blood of thousands, and I think he was just now starting to feel the real weight of what his actions had caused.

I rest a hand on his shoulder, "That's impressive knowledge, you know? Not everybody has the ability to appraise weapons like that. Heck, if you were to settle in a city that has a marketplace like the one in Vesuvia, you could turn it into a business."

Lucio shakes his head and barks out a laugh, "I just know the easy stuff. I wouldn't know a two hundred year old long sword from Navivon to a toothpick if it was thrown in front of me. Jewelry, though, jewelry has always been enticing to me. Maybe I can be a jeweler, if I ever get the chance."

A slight shudder runs through me, remembering the sea of gaudy jewelry Lucio had given to Nadia as gifts. Gifts that she never wore, as she found them hideous. I couldn't necessarily disagree, but I suppose if Lucio had a careful eye to critique him, he could make something of himself. Besides, it was good to hear him sound somewhat hopeful for the future, instead of resigning himself to a life of isolation on this uncharted island.

We pull a few other things from the travel pack. A few spare changes of clothes that look pretty outdated, a canteen that'd been long drained of its contents, some flint, various blends of herbs and spices, now gone stale, and, much to my surprise a handful of crystals; evidence that pointed towards the traveler being some kind of student, or perhaps even master, of the magical arts. The last thing we pull out is a map printed on an old, withered piece of parchment.

"Huh," Lucio mutters, scratching his chin, "I've never seen this land before, I don't think."

I can't argue with him on that. I've seen maps of Vesuvia, Prakra, Navivon, and even Nopal. Even the distant lands Julian and I sailed to didn't look anything like this. There were no towns, or cities, or kingdoms drawn on this map. Just dense forests with a few scarce land marks.

However, there is something on the map that catches my eye; a small sketch of an alcove with a waterfall and bushes. Upon further inspection, I find another small sketch of a cave with a few select animal drawings sketched beside it, most notably a raven, an owl, a fox, and a goat.

"Let me see that for a moment..."

Lucio passes the map over to me and I spread it out on the floor of the cave. I manage to find a quill and an inkwell with a little bit of ink left in it. I draw a circle around the sketch of the cave, marking the location of West Camp. I take a few random guesses, pinpointing where the other three camps would be based on the vague landmarks that were already drawn. By the time I'm finished, a familiar design has appeared in the middle of the map; a warped upside down star.

We stare in stunned silence at the discovery. This was a map of the island, or at least what the island used to look like years ago. The difference was astounding, if not a little concerning. The design that I had drawn was only about a fifth of the size of the original. That could only mean that the rest was sitting below the water, having been swallowed up by the sea due to the frequent rains. One day, maybe not today, maybe not ten years from now, but  _one day_ , this entire island would be completely underwater.

"This must be what we were mean to find," I state, "The island is slowly sinking. It won't be here for very much longer. Lucio... if you don't come with me off this island, you're going to sink with it."

Lucio looks torn. I can sense that he understands the gravity of the situation. The island will be swallowed up by a storm, if he lives long enough to see it, and there will be no place that's safe for him to retreat to.

"But where will I go?" he asks hopelessly, "Nadia's orders were perfectly clear. Her word is law. She will not hear or see me. I  _can't_  come back with you to Vesuvia, no matter how much I might want to."

I reach out and cup one of his cheeks, "We'll think of  _something_. There will be at least five of us there to brainstorm some kind of plan, and trust me. Mazelinka, Portia, Julian, Nazali and I have made our way out of some pretty tight spots before. And you're starting to make a very good impression on everyone again. It might take a bit of coaxing, but I'm sure I could convince them to help you."

Lucio sighs and shakes his head, but I can see the smile he's trying to hide pull at the corners of his mouth, "You never give up, do you?"

I tilt his head up and wrap his mouth in a kiss. Never. Not on this. Not on us.


	16. Chapter 16: The Journey to East Camp

Lucio beams with pride bouncing in his every step as we continue on our journey to East Camp, nearly skipping along the dirt path. His pace is so fast, despite his limp, that I'm nearly running to keep up. He's had this pleased grin on his face ever since we climbed our way out of the alcove. I'm almost positive the slightest nudge to his ego would send him bursting into song.

"Was I right, or was I right?"

I roll my eyes and shake my head, even though I'm smiling along with him, equally as proud, "For the tenth time, Lucio, yes. You were right."

"I used magic...  _I_  used  _magic_!"

I hold my tongue, allowing Lucio to have his five minutes of fame. The magic he used was the most basic of beginner spells. I almost wouldn't even call it a spell, finding that map in that old travel pack. It could have easily been a coincidence or a random guess that just so happened to work in his favor. Then again, I remember that being one of the very first things that  _I_  was taught by Asra, and how proud I was of myself when the spell had worked. So I couldn't be too unimpressed with him, especially given that he got it on his first try.

"Keep working on it and you'll be able to find more than just a bit of parchment a few feet away," I say to him, "Eventually you'll be able to find people and objects located on the other side of a vast city."

Lucio whirls around and looks at me expectantly, "Think you can teach me something else?"

"Like?"

"Like... that fire spell. Seems like it'd be useful. Or the spell you use for light."

I ponder the two spells over in my head. Both are also relatively beginner-level, albeit a bit more challenging than tracking down a hidden piece of paper. It would take a lot of determination and patience, but I have a feeling that Lucio had managed to work on that a bit in the year he'd spent marooned here.

We pull over on the edge of the path, and I grab a small stick jutting out of the underbrush. I hand it over to him and position his hand so it's wrapped around its length.

"Think 'heat'," I tell him, "Imagine it filling the gaps in the wood, intensifying within its grains."

Lucio closes his eyes and tries to focus. The amber aura I'd seen earlier slowly emerges and inches towards the stick. It hesitantly laps at the bark before it starts seeping into it. I brush one of the ends with the tip of my finger and feel just the slightest bit of warmth emanating from it.

"Now think 'fire'," I instruct, "Picture the way it moves, the flames dancing along the surface of the wood. Imagine the fire emerging from deep within the grain."

Everything is still for a moment before I see a spark jump from between his fingers, then a few more, then many more until they're raining from around his hand like a firework. Lucio's aura flares and fights, but eventually retreats.

Lucio's eyes open as he lets out a deep, frustrated sigh, "It didn't work."

I shrug, "It didn't do anything for me the first time I tried it. And the next few times I tried it, the stick either fell into a heap of splinters, or turned into a length of string or a worm. Beginners rarely get that spell right on their first try. Besides..." I take the stick back in my hand and nearly drop it. It's hot to the touch and is scorched a deep shade of brown where his hand was, "You were  _very_ close. You'll get the hang of it in no time."

Lucio smiles and we help each other to our feet before continuing on our way. Soon, the sights start becoming vaguely familiar, and I start to hear the waves rolling against the shore in the distance. Ahead of us, I see the path slope down slightly and open up into a clearing. East Camp.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting to walk into when we'd returned. I figured there would be at least a few minor repairs that would need to be made to the campsite, based on the destruction I had seen throughout the forest after the storm. What I  _wasn't_  expecting was what was waiting for us when we finally stepped into the clearing.

The campsite itself looked more or less untouched. The shelter was still standing, the furs were still piled into a heap, albeit matted and soggy from the rain, and even the charred remains of the campfire still stood where they had been left. I was even able to spot a few stray black spots from the embers that were scattered when Nero had fallen into the fire. But what greeted us as Lucio and I emerged from the trail took us both completely by surprise.

Sprawled gracefully in a sunny spot at the edge of the campsite... was the tigress. She sits up as we approach trots over as if she's relieved to see us. She bumps her massive head against my hip, almost bowling me over where I stand. A pleased sound escapes from the depths of her throat, and for a moment I think I hear a word.

_"Friend!"_

I glance over to Lucio, who doesn't appear to have noticed. He smiles down at the tigress and offers his hand, and she quickly wheels around to head-butt his hip too. However, with his injured leg, the motion upsets his balance and he's sent tumbling into a nearby bush.

"What did I tell you?" he laughs, scratching her ears as she looms over him, "A gentle giant."

Shaking off the initial confusion of what I thought I just heard, I set our things aside and start seeing what can be done about the camp. With our tiger pelt from West Camp in tow, I wasn't all that worried about having to replace the bedding, but we were definitely going to need wood if we were going to build a fire. Considering how many trees fell during the last storm, I figured we were going be in luck in that department too.

As I'm looking around, a small flash of vibrant color catches my eye, shining like a star in the shade of a nearby shrub. My heart jumps in delight as I make out the shape of a fish and gold leaf cups; another card. In fact, not just  _a_ card, but three that had managed to stick together long enough to reach dry land. The moment I pick them up, they separate, revealing the Ace of Cups, the King of Wands, and Justice.

Before I can explode with relief and joy, another flash of color and gold leaf hits me from across the clearing, and I find two more cards. Then another a few feet to my left, and then two more a few more feet to the right. It isn't long before Lucio catches on to what's going on, and joins me on my quest to find as many cards from Asra's deck as possible. Even the tigress seems to join the hunt as she lumbers lazily beside me, sifting randomly through patches of sand and brush with her dinner-plate-sized paws.

Our quest to find the rest of the tarot deck takes us all across the east side of the island. The sun has started casting deep shades of gold across the sky by the time the three of us reconvene at the campsite. Throughout the course of the rest of the afternoon, I manage to come back with around thirty-some cards. The stack in Lucio's hands is slightly smaller, but no less thrilling to see. The tigress, who had trotted off into the forest shortly after joining the search, returns just before sundown with a few cards in her mouth.

The final count comes to seventy-two cards, with every member of the minor arcana accounted for and all but six majors; The Magician, The High Priestess, The Hanged Man, The Hermit, The Star, and Judgement. My heart sunk a little at the realization. I looked everywhere, and I'm sure we searched at least half of the island, between the three of us. My friends back in Vesuvia... Did the absence of their patrons mean something? Were we ever going to see them again? A bout of dread sinks in the pit of my stomach like a stone, and a terrifying thought crosses my mind. Would Mazelinka's ship even manage to find this island, or were we truly waiting for a rescue that was never going to come?


End file.
